The Marriage of Three Hearts
by OhioOwl
Summary: A young American widow and her father arrive in Los Angeles to claim an inheritance. She falls in love with both Don Diego and El Zorro, and "both" of them fall in love with her. When Zorro falls prey to Capitan Monastario, she escapes the comandante's iron hold on the pueblo to ride for the Governor. Will they arrive Los Angeles in time to save Diego from an outlaw's fate?
1. Arrival

**Chapter 1: Arrival**

The late afternoon sun shown down on a small and dusty traveling party making its way into the plaza of the Pueblo de La Reina de Los Angeles. Two riders and two pack animals eased their way to the front of the inn and slowed to a halt. The elder rider, grey-eyed and sporting iron grey hair and a moustache to match, surveyed the inn, the _cuartel_ , and the church with a keen gaze that missed nothing. Firm and straight in the saddle, he held himself with more than a hint of military bearing. His younger companion, wrapped in a _serape_ , seemed almost absent, following the other rider's gaze but focusing on nothing in particular.

But it was not so much the travelers themselves as their mounts that attracted the attention of Alejandro De la Vega. He and Don Diego, having concluded the purchase of sufficient grain to see their stable well fed for the next several months, were partaking of some light refreshment on the inn's shady patio before returning to their _hacienda_ for the evening.

Alejandro, who prided himself on his ability to breed horseflesh, nodded at the riders. "Two very fine mounts, Diego."

Diego turned to observe the animals. "Yes, Father, those are indeed fine horses. Although one does not often see horses like that used for traveling great distances, which these have obviously done."

Dismounting now in front of the inn, the riders were met by a bustling Sergeant Garcia and two lancers. " _Buenos tardes_ , Señores," the sergeant declared in his official voice. "Welcome to the Pueblo de Los Angeles. By order of _Comandante_ Monastario, all new arrivals must have their baggage inspected."

"Baggage inspected?" echoed the taller rider. "Inspected for what?"

"For, er... contraband."

"Contraband?" replied the rider, irritation creeping into his voice.

"Si!"

"What kind of contraband?"

Garcia was taken aback. No one had ever asked him that question before. "Er...Illegal contraband," was the only answer the sergeant could think of.

"And exactly what sort of illegal contraband do you suspect us of carrying?" The irritation in his voice was stronger now, very close to anger.

But Garcia had no choice. "I am sorry, _señor_ ," he said, now sounding irritated himself, "but I have my orders. Corporal, inspect these pack animals."

"Now just a minute —" continued the older rider."

Alejandro leaned towards his son. "Diego, perhaps we should rescue Sergeant Garcia before there is an incident that brings out the _comandante_ himself." His son nodded and the two of them rose from their table and started into the plaza. As they approached the group, Diego observed the younger rider. The _serape_ hung clumsily, much too large for its wearer. This rider's face, with its high cheekbones and small mouth, appeared drawn and somewhat overpowered by a very large hat. Diego wondered if perhaps an illness was responsible.

"Your pardon, _señores_ ," said Don Alejandro," but Sergeant Garcia means no offense. This inspection is merely our local custom, a formality for everyone. Our _comandante_ wishes only to safeguard all those who live here and visit here. My son Diego and I invite you to take some refreshment with us in the shade of the patio until the inspection is completed." And he gestured toward their table.

"Perhaps that's a good idea," said the younger rider, in a voice that was much too soft to be healthy.

"Very well," the elder replied. "At this point rest of any kind is welcome."

The four of them proceeded to the patio and arranged themselves around the De la Vega's table. Diego motioned to the innkeeper for another bottle of wine. The two dons and the elder rider seated themselves. The younger rider stood and began to adjust the _serape_. The elder rider watched for a moment and then addressed his companion, "Now that we're off the trail, why don't you just take that dusty thing off?"

"Yes, I think I will," came the reply. Removing the hat revealed a bandanna that covered a lumpy mass at the back of the head. Removing the _serape_ dislodged the bandanna — and let loose a cascade of chestnut hair that ended half way down her back. There before them stood a tall young woman wearing an ordinary work shirt and trousers. And a pistol belt. Diego and his father sprang to their feet.

"Your pardon, _señorita_ , we did not realize..." Diego began.

" _Señora_ ," she corrected him. He looked at her, puzzled. "You would call me ' _señora.'_ I am a widow," she added flatly. "Please, gentlemen, sit down."

Alejandro sank back into his chair. He was speechless. He was beyond speechless. To have an unaccompanied woman who was dressed like a _vacquero_ sitting and drinking publicly with men in the inn's patio was a scandalous violation of every aspect of _hidalgo_ decorum that the old don could think of. Even a widow should be accompanied by her maid!

"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves," began the elder rider. "I am Colonel Robert Sheraton, United States Army, retired, and this is my daughter Mrs. Margaret Emerson. We are here in Los Angeles to inspect the _Rancho_ Flores, which has been bequeathed to me by the late Don Alfonso Martinez y Flores. I was told that _Licenciado_ Piña could take care of the necessary arrangements. I have the necessary correspondence and documents in my baggage."

"I am afraid that _Licenciado_ Piña is not available," said Diego. "He has gone up to San Fernando on business and is not expected back for several days. Is he the only one who can help you?" Diego shot his father a guarded glance. _Licenciado_ Piña was a close colleague of the _comandante_ and heartily disliked by all of the landowners.

At that moment Sergeant Garcia approached, announcing loudly: "The baggage inspection is completed, _señores_ , and you can be on your way."

Colonel Sheraton ignored the sergeant. "I believe so." He turned to his daughter. "Maggie, wait here while I see about rooms at the inn —"

"I'm afraid you cannot do that," interrupted Garcia. Seeing the look of displeasure return to the colonel's face, Garcia hastened to add: "The inn, it is full. I was speaking to Señor Pacheco the innkeeper only this morning and he said he has no more rooms. I am sorry, _señores_." Only then did the sergeant notice the transformation of the fourth person at the table. He started, then opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again."

Diego leaned towards his friend and said in a low voice, "I'll explain later, Sergeant." The soldier beat a hasty retreat.

"Since the inn is full, we would be honored if the two of you would stay with us at our _hacienda_ , until your business with _Rancho_ Flores is settled," offered Don Alejandro.

"That is very kind of you, but we are strangers and we wouldn't want to impose," declared the colonel.

"It is no imposition, I assure you. We have plenty of room and many things to help make you comfortable after your long journey."

Robert Sheraton eyed his daughter. On the surface she appeared comfortable in her chair, but the fatigue of the long journey was evident to anyone who knew her well. "Very well, Don Alejandro, we accept your offer. I must confess the idea of sleeping in a real bed again has a certain appeal. And I promise you that if we take possession of _Rancho_ Flores, we'll be happy to return your hospitality if ever you have a need."

The four of them rose. The dons returned to their horses and mounted. Colonel Sheraton fetched the pack animals from the lancers, then he and Maggie mounted up and followed father and son out of the _pueblo_.

Don Alejandro strode through the _hacienda_ gate calling out, "Cresencia, Arturo, Rosa, we have guests!"

The servants sprang into action. The horses were unloaded and fed. Saddlebags were brought in and carried up to rooms. The dinner menu was adjusted. One of the house servants brought refreshing _lemonada_. After finishing her drink, Maggie found herself shepherded up to a bedroom by the housekeeper Cresencia, who insisted on helping her unpack and put away her clothing. "I will bring you hot water and towels so you may refresh yourself before dinner," the woman offered.

"Thank you," said Maggie, as she went to the wardrobe and looked over the clothes she had brought with her. She had packed only three dresses. _Well_ , she reminded herself, _a dress isn't much use on a rough overland journey of several hundred miles_. All the dresses seemed equally wrinkled after weeks in a saddlebag, so she simply picked one and shook it vigorously. Then she located her more conventional ladies' linen. The housekeeper and another female servant arrived with a basin already containing hot water, a large pitcher of extra hot water, and a stack of fresh-smelling towels. "Constancia," Maggie asked, "how soon is dinner?"

"Your pardon, señora, but my name is Cre- _sen_ -ci-a," she said, sounding out each syllable. And this," she indicated the young woman who had brought in the pitcher," is Buena. And dinner is in about a hour. Please make yourself comfortable and rest until then."

Maggie couldn't think of anything else she'd rather do.


	2. Recollection

**Chapter 2: Recollection**

 **A/N: A somewhat lengthy (sorry! ) backstory of why Colonel Sheraton and Maggie came to Los Angeles.**

Dinner was both delicious and uneventful. Don Alejandro had a Spaniard's sacred respect for hospitality, but he was not at all sure what he would do if the young woman had arrived at his table wearing her _pantalones_. Diego was somewhat amused at his father's discomfort, since it was rare that anything got this far under Alejandro's skin. Diego had noted the tension on his father's face as they waited for their guests. The expression of relief that replaced it when his father saw that Maggie had changed into a dress was so close to comical that it cost Diego some effort to keep from laughing.

"How did you come to know Don Alfonso Martinez y Flores, Colonel?" asked Don Alejandro when they were all seated at the table.

"As a young officer posted to Washington City I was part of the detachment assigned to escort diplomatic missions. _Señor_ Martinez y Flores was part of one such mission. One day we were assigned to take the Spaniards over to the Potomac docks for a riverboat dinner. On the way some old French dragoon who still hadn't forgiven Spain for giving Napoleon such a hard time charged out of the roadside bushes brandishing a saber. I managed to get between him and Don Alfonso. The old Frenchman was overpowered and taken into custody and we arrived in time for our guests to board their vessel on schedule."

"A impressive and courageous act," said Diego. "I salute your bravery, _señor_."

Here Maggie, who up to this point had been virtually silent, found her voice. "I think there was a little more to it than that, Papa." She turned to their hosts. "What he isn't telling you is that if the dragoon had been a little closer and a little stronger and the saber a little sharper my father would be missing his left arm. Or at least that's the way my mother told it."

"My wife always made far too much of it. I was a soldier assigned to protect foreign visitors and I simply did my duty. Anyway, Don Flores and his party thanked me, and I resumed my normal routine."

"After three weeks in a hospital," interjected his daughter.

"Shortly after the incident the diplomatic mission left. A few months later I had a letter from Don Flores, again thanking me for my efforts and asking about my health and my career — the usual pleasantries. And then nothing, until just over a year ago when I received a letter telling me that he had died and left me his property in Alta California. I was stunned. Apparently his entire family had died in a fever epidemic and he had no one else to leave it to."

Here Don Alejandro nodded. "I remember. There was much sickness in the _pueblo_ that year."

The colonel took another sip of wine. "As I understand it, what I have is the option to take the ranch. If I don't want it, it is to be sold and the money donated to the church. So here we are, to inspect the _Rancho_ Flores and make a decision. And again I thank you for your hospitality," he said, raising his glass.

"You are most welcome," replied Don Alejandro, raising his glass in return. "We will put you in touch with _Licenciado_ Piña as soon as he has returned to the _pueblo_. Although perhaps in a day or so, once you have rested, we can ride over to at least look at the state of the _hacienda_. Nothing in the law forbids that."

During this explanation Colonel Sheraton had been quietly observing his daughter. She was leaning back in her chair and rather heavy-eyed. "Maggie, why don't you go up to bed? You are about to fall asleep in that chair."

She sighed. "Well, Papa, I am very tired. And this wonderful dinner and delicious wine have made me sleepy." She rose and the men rose also. She addressed Don Alejandro. "I, too, sir, thank you for your hospitality. I hope we won't have to impose upon you for long. Good night, gentlemen." She pushed back her chair, turned, and left the room.

"More wine, colonel?" asked Diego. Sheraton nodded and Diego refilled his glass. The colonel stared silently into the dark liquid for a minute, seemingly making up his mind about something. Then he looked up and said, "Gentlemen, I would like to speak to you about my daughter. I'm not apologizing for her, or making excuses for behavior that I think you might find strange. But I think you could better understand her if I tell you what she's been through."

Diego and his father exchanged a look that said basically _Why not?_ "If you so wish," said Don Alejandro. "But first, let us adjourn to _sala_ so that the servants can clear the table. They went to the larger room where Diego and his father chose comfortable chairs in front of the fire and Colonel Sheraton remained standing at the side of the mantelpiece.

"Before you begin, _señor_ ", said Diego, "and if it would not cause offense, I would like to ask about how you address your daughter. This term, 'magg-gee', is it an American expression? What does it mean?

"Yes, I suppose it's a strange sound to a Spaniard. It's just a pet name, a shortened form of 'Margaret'. Some Margarets are called 'Margaret', some are called 'Meg' or 'Peg', but I have called my daughter 'Maggie' ever since she was this high" —.he lowered a flattened palm until it was just above his knee — and wearing her hair in braids. Some might think it's a bit undignified for a grown woman, but she doesn't mind and besides, old family habits are hard to break."

Colonel Sheraton paused for a moment. "I suppose I should begin at the beginning. Two years after I was commissioned lieutenant but some time before meeting S _eñor_ Flores I met and married the most wonderful creature ever to walk God's green earth. We had two girls, Margaret Marie and Emmaline Louise. I remained posted to Washington City, which was near my family farm so I could spend an occasional few days there or Alicia my wife could visit town for a day or two. The years passed, the girls grew. I was being promoted up through the ranks. We were so happy it was almost too good to be true."

He sat down then and gazed silently at the fire for a long moment. "And then my wife became ill, and after a year she died. I discovered that I could not bear to be alone in any of the places where we had been together. I couldn't dine in a restaurant where we had dined. I couldn't walk in a park where we had walked. I stopped visiting the farm altogether. So I requested and was granted a remote posting. I had just been promoted to colonel and I was given command of a new garrison in Arkansas Territory. By then Maggie had been managing the farm for some time so I wasn't worried about leaving it in her hands."

"My daughter repeatedly offered to come with me. I of course wouldn't hear of it. I kept telling her that the frontier was no place for a young unmarried woman. I made my way to my new command, where the discipline and responsibility required to run the post helped ease my grief. Six months later a supply shipment arrived, and there, riding in on that splendid grey stallion you saw earlier and leading the equally splendid bay, was my Maggie. I didn't know whether to hug her or to be furious with her."

"No doubt you did both," interjected fellow parent Alejandro.

"I did. Then she informed me that she was simply delivering a gift for me —the bay — from my brother. I informed her that I was sending her back to Maryland immediately. She informed me that having made the journey she had no intention of 'abandoning me to the barbaric wilds of Arkansas' as she put it. She was going to set up housekeeping for me and had brought everything she needed with her."

Don Alejandro raised his eyebrows. In the _pueblo_ such conduct in a young woman was unthinkable.

"So Maggie stayed and set up housekeeping, just as she intended. Naturally she became acquainted with my subordinates. In particular, she became acquainted with one Lieutenant William Blaketon Emerson, a cavalry officer. The both loved music. They both loved riding. In time they fell in love and married. I was delighted. Will was an outstanding officer and a fine man of good family. I couldn't have asked for a better son-in-law. But then, after they had been married just two and a half months, Will led out what should have been a routine patrol. Instead they ran into a band of rustlers. Will took a bullet in the chest — deep in the chest and close to the heart. They brought him back to the fort. We did everything we could for him. But the bullet was too deep and the doctor couldn't save him. Will lingered in a fever for three days, and then he died."

"That is most tragic," murmured Diego.

"Of course Maggie was heartbroken. She grieved terribly — we all did. But the daily routine at the post didn't stop and we had to go on with our lives. At first I thought she was going to recover. But after two months I started noticing little changes in her and I began to observe her closely. I realized that, little by little, all the light was going out of her eyes." He sipped his wine and sighed.

"When I first got the letter about Don Alfonso's bequest, I set it aside. I wasn't really interested in becoming a ranch owner in Spanish California. But after Will's death and the changes I saw in Maggie, I began to reconsider. We couldn't stay where we were. God knows, I knew what the daily reminders of Will were doing to her. She couldn't go back to Maryland. Emma and her husband were running the farm so Maggie had no role there. I began to wonder if a complete change would help her: new faces, new home, new landscape, new life. So one evening I sat down and thoroughly read the bequest. The next day I wrote my first letter to the _licenciado_. And here we are.

"Your concern for your daughter is most commendable," stated Don Alejandro.

"Any parent would do as much," replied the colonel. He took a deep breath and rose from his chair. "And now I believe it is time for me to retire. I'm sorry this explanation has taken so long, but I hope it will help you understand why Maggie feels and acts the way she does. Good night, gentlemen."

" _Buenos noches_ ," both replied.

When the colonel had left the room, Diego, shaking his head slowly, said gently, "A widow...and so young. This should not have happened."

"My son, many things happen in life that should not happen."

"But surely something can be done to lift her spirits, to help her want to live again."

"Diego, the best we can do is to offer hospitality and assistance. If they do decide to settle here, we will be good neighbors. Beyond that, the _señora_ must find her own way. And now it is late, and I think it is time for the two of us to retire also."

"Very well _. Buenos noches_ , Father."

" _Buenos noches_ , _Manzanito_ ,"

"Father!" cried Diego in shock and embarrassment. "No one has called me that for years!"

"Well yes, but you always were the 'little apple' of your Mother's eye. And besides, old family habits are hard to break."


	3. Budding

**Chapter 3: Budding**

The _hacienda_ was quiet that afternoon. Don Alejandro and Colonel Sheraton had ridden out to the _Rancho_ Flores to look over the property. Earlier in the day Don Alejandro had finished the monthly update of his account books. As was his custom, he asked his son to double check the entries. So the early afternoon found Diego settled at a table on the sunny patio with a stack of papers, his father's ledger, and a jug of Rosa's _sangria_. He was almost finished with his task when a sudden cry of "Ow!" startled him. Investigating, he headed to the garden at the side of the house and found Maggie Emerson standing next to a large rose bush, holding the back of her left hand to her mouth.

" _Señori_ — I mean, _Señora_ , is anything wrong?" Inwardly he chided himself: _Why can I never remember that this young woman is a widow_?

"Oh, Don Diego! I'm sorry, if I disturbed you. I didn't know anyone else was out here. I was reaching for a rose when I caught my hand on a thorn." She suddenly added, "Cresencia assured me that Don Alejandro wouldn't mind if I picked a few blooms for my room."

"My father would not mind at all," he replied, pulling a clean handkerchief from under his _banda_."

Seeing it she exclaimed, "No, I wouldn't want to soil your kerchief! It's just a scratch."

" _Con permiso_ ," he said, taking the wounded hand and pressing the linen to back of it." He now looked at the offending bush. It was a large shrub, growing two-thirds of the way up the garden wall, and well spread out. "I see you have found our _Abuela_ rose."

" _Abuela_?"

"You would say 'grandmother'. The story is that when my father's mother came to this country she brought with her four small cuttings from her garden in Spain. This was the only one to survive the trip. She planted it here and tended it, and it flourished. But when she died this rose fell into decline. It began to wither and no one could make it bloom. Then my father married my mother and brought her here to the _hacienda_. Once my mother began to tend the rose, it bloomed again and it blooms still."

"Even though your mother is gone?" she asked.

"Yes, no one quite knows why. Perhaps because my father still loves both of them and holds their memory in his heart."

"Well, whoever tends it now is a good gardener. Your father should be pleased because this rose looks very happy."

Suddenly Diego realized he was still holding her hand. He removed his kerchief and let go of her fingers, happy to see that the bleeding had stopped. "I think you will live," he smiled. "But perhaps I can be of some assistance. If you will show me which blooms you want I'd be happy to cut them for you."

"That is very kind of you," she replied, handing him the shears. She turned back to the bush and pointed to a full bloom just above her head. He pulled the stem down slightly and brought up the shears. "Wait! Not there. Cut lower, just above the sprig with five leaves. That way you'll get another rose."

"You know something of roses?"

"My mother grew roses back home. I often helped her with them. Although I don't think any of those eastern roses would be able to survive here. Your climate is too different."

"Perhaps one might, if it were hardy enough and had the proper care and tending," he said gently. He held out the rose and as she took it he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a deep shade of sea-green. "How many more would you like?"

"Just three. I wouldn't want you father accusing me of emptying his garden."

He cut three more blooms for her, and when she had added them to her basket he returned the shears. They stood together for a moment, in silence. "But where are my manners!" Diego exclaimed. "Please join me for some refreshment," and he gestured back toward where he had been working.

She hesitated momentarily, then responded, "Yes, I would like that."

As they approached the worktable Diego called out, "Arturo!"

Don Alejandro's steward appeared immediately in the _sala's_ doorway. " _Patr_ ò _n_?"

"A glass for _Señora_ Emerson, _por favor_."

The servant disappeared into the house. Diego pulled out a chair for Maggie and then sat down himself. Moments later a small man with curling hair above and behind his ears and a high, balding forehead appeared carrying a tray with a glass and another jug. Maggie recognized him as one of the servants who had waited at dinner the previous evening. He set the glass in front of her and filled it with fresh _sangria_.

"Thank you," said Maggie, looking up at him. But the man had no reaction to her words.

"Ah, I must explain," said Diego. "This is my manservant, Bernardo. He can neither hear nor speak. If you wish to thank him, just nod."

She looked up at him a second time and nodded. This time Bernardo smiled and returned the gesture. "But how do you tell him what you want or what to do?" she asked.

"Bernardo has become very good at anticipating my needs, and we have many signs to let him know what to do." Diego waved his hand and Bernardo withdrew. "I hope you have been comfortable these past few days."

"I have been very comfortable. And I thank you for your concern. But please, don't let me interrupt what you were doing."

"I am simply double-checking my father's monthly accounts. I can easily finish this later." Diego began gathering up the papers and the ledger. Then he paused. "I hope you are beginning to feel rested after your long journey. If there is anything further we can do for you, do not hesitate to ask."

"I really am feeling very much better. I don't believe how much I've slept since Papa and I arrived. Now I'm beginning to wonder what to do with myself during the day."

"I believe I heard your father mention that you are fond of riding. Perhaps we can ride out together sometime and I can show you around our land. There is much beauty here in our part of California. If, that is, you are feeling strong enough."

"Yes, I would love to go riding. Perhaps tomorrow or the day after?"

"And speaking of your father," said Diego, looking up at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. It sounds like our fathers have returned."

Indeed he was correct. Don Alejandro and Colonel Sheraton were now dismounting and handing over their horses to a servant. They entered the patio still carrying on their conversation.

"That pasture would easily support two hundred cattle," Don Alejandro was saying. "And with the olive orchard and the vineyard you would be able to live quite comfortably on what you would realize. True, it is a smaller _rancho_ , but still a fine one and it is a shame to let the land lie idle."

"Well Papa," said Maggie, "what did you think?"

The two men approached the table. "The house will need a good cleaning and some work as it's been empty for over a year," began the colonel. "The outbuildings, too, need slight repair. The land looks promising. If you're feeling up to it we can go over there tomorrow and you can look over the house. After all, you're the housekeeper of the family. And then you and I will need to talk. I must admit, Maggie, I'm tempted."

"Very well, we'll go tomorrow," she agreed.

"If perhaps I might accompany you?" asked Diego.

"Certainly Diego!" replied the colonel. "An extra pair of eyes is always helpful."

" _Gracias_ , Colonel. I look forward to assisting you."

Maggie stood and picked up her basket of roses. "Now I must go and put these in wa — Oh."

As if by magic Bernardo had appeared at her side holding a vase filled with water.

"Thank you!" she said, taking the vase and remembering to nod at him.

"You see," said Diego, "I told you he is very good at anticipating one's needs!"

No one else saw the wink that passed between Bernardo and his patròn.


	4. Insult

**Chapter 4: Insult**

Colonel Sheraton and Maggie and cantered to the top of a rise and looked at the _Rancho_ Flores spread out before them. "I suppose, as Julius Cesar would say, 'The die is cast,' " the Colonel declared. "As soon as the deed is returned from Monterey I will officially be a California landowner, subject to the laws and whims of his majesty King Ferdinand VII. Does that make me a _hidalgo_? And do you think people will start calling me 'Don Roberto'?" he asked, smiling.

"I think it takes noble Spanish blood to make you a _hidalgo_ so that eliminates us. Suppose we just be good ranchers? And I have no intention of calling you anything but 'Papa,' so don't start putting on airs." The two of them swung their horses around and headed back toward the De la Vega _hacienda_.

The legal process had been lengthy and often frustrating. On the one hand _Licenciado_ Piña attributed the many delays to the high level of detail work required by Spanish property law. On the other hand he could not really account for why Don Alfonso's cash bequest seemed to be only two-thirds of the original figure stated in writing. "Expenses for the upkeep of the property," the _licenciado_ had declared rather nebulously.

"So we can't take possession until we have the actual deed?" queried Maggie.

"I'm afraid not," replied her father. "But I'm sure Don Alejandro won't mind if we stay on a little longer. He's been remarkably gracious and helpful so far. And since we have decided to stay he is giving a reception in our honor so that we can meet our fellow landowners."

Now that Maggie was fully recovered from their long overland journey and they had decided to remain in Alta California, she was becoming restless. Used to the responsibilities of running a large farm back in Maryland, and then to keeping house for her father in Arkansas, she was beginning to chafe under the enforced inactivity of a houseguest. True, riding out every day on Thunderhead, her grey stallion, provided a diversion. Don Diego proved to be an excellent horseman and a pleasant companion. But she could only ride for so long. One evening, out of exasperation, she had enquired if she might help the servants clear the table after dinner. The resulting look on Don Alejandro's face suggested he was about to have a stroke. She had never asked again.

So she sighed as she rode back to the De la Vega stables. To make matters worse, she felt a headache coming on. _That's what I get for spending too much time in the garden without a hat,_ she thought _._ Onceback in her room, Maggie was leaning into the pillows on the window seat and hoping to catch a breeze when Buena knocked on her door and announced: " _Doña_ Elvira Ramirez has come calling to see you, Se _ñ_ ora." This was a considerable surprise since Maggie had no idea who the woman was or why she would want to speak to her.

At the head of the stairs Maggie stopped and turned to Buena. "Who is this again?"

 _"Doña_ Elvira Ramirez," the servant replied slowly so that Maggie could grasp the name. "She and her husband Don Tomás are among Don Alejandro's oldest friends." Trying to ignore her aching head Maggie took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

As she turned into the _sala,_ Maggie saw two women standing before the fireplace. One was tall and somewhat greying, with dark eyes, an aquiline nose, and an aristocratic bearing. This, Maggie guessed, was the _doña_. The other woman was younger, not so elegantly dressed, and somewhat subdued. _This must be her maid_ , thought the colonel's daughter. Both women were dressed entirely in black.

" _Señora_ Ramirez," said Maggie, approaching the visitors with a slightly forced smile. "I am Maggie Emerson. Please, sit down." She gestured toward the chairs. Maggie and _Doña_ Elvira sat near the fireplace. The maid took a chair a little apart. "Is there something I can do for you?"

The older woman's face remained neutral. "I have come to make your acquaintance, as is our custom here."

"That's very kind of you," replied Maggie with what she hoped was a friendly nod.

"You are an American, I believe. From where does your family come?"

"Our farm back home is in the state of Maryland, which is in the eastern part of our country, bordering the Atlantic ocean."

"And how long has your family lived there?" inquired the _doña_.

"Well, my father's father was born there, but beyond that I don't really know."

"How did your family acquire its land?"

Maggie was beginning to feel like a schoolgirl called on the carpet for some offense. "I'm afraid I don't know for sure." The ache was definitely making itself felt in her head.

"Ah, no matter! Now that you are here the first thing you must do is see to your _hacienda_ and your servants."

"I don't expect we'll have many servants beyond the _vaqueros_ for the stock —"

"But you must keep a proper household," the older woman interrupted. "You must have a housekeeper, a _mozo_ for your father, a personal maid for yourself; perhaps also a steward, house servants, and a cook."

"We won't need a cook," stated Maggie, increasingly annoyed at the woman's attitude. "I've cooked for my father before and I'll be doing it again."

At this _Doña_ Elvira bridled. "You will be the _doña_ of an estate. You must not lower yourself to menial tasks such as cooking."

The ache in Maggie's head exploded and she could no longer keep the annoyance and exasperation out of her voice. " _Doña_ Elvira, I have cooked for my family and a dozen farm hands back home. I have cooked for my father and then for my husband and sometimes for half an army base in Arkansas. I assure you that I am perfectly capable of cooking and keeping house for my father here in California!"

Dona Elvira's face became a mask of stone. She rose abruptly. "I see I have overstayed my welcome. I wish you joy and comfort in your new home. Come Luisa." She nodded to her maid, and marched out to her carriage with the excessive dignity of someone who has just been insulted.

It was very clear to Maggie that she'd done something terribly wrong. Perhaps if her head would stop throbbing she could figure out what it was. She made her way to the kitchen. Rosa was slicing vegetables, and Cresencia was drinking a cup of tea. Both of them stood up as she entered. _Why do they keep treating me like royalty_? she thought. But she wasn't in the mood to have that discussion, so she simply asked, "Do either of you have anything that will help a bad headache?"

"Si, _Señora_ ," replied Rosa. "I will fix something for you now. Why don't you go up to your room and Cresencia will bring it to you?" A short while after Maggie arrived upstairs there was a knock at her door. The housekeeper carried a glass which she set down on the table beside the bed.

"Here, _Señora_ ," said Cresencia, pulling back the ornate coverlet, "lie down and sip this. It might make you sleep a little, but you will feel better soon." Maggie climbed into bed, half sitting up. She leaned back against the pillows and took the glass. The liquid was cold and sour but she drank it.

"Thank you, Cresencia," she said to the housekeeper. The older woman left and Maggie continued to sip. She began to feel the throbbing in her head lessen, and then she dozed off.

She was awakened by the sound of voices — angry voices? — drifting up from the open window in Don Alejandro's study below. As her drowsiness ebbed away, she realized there were three different voices. She could only make out snatches of what they were saying.

The first voice was the steward Arturo: "Ramirez...Emerson...departure...abrupt..."

The second voice, the really angry voice, was Don Alejandro: "...insult...hospitality...guest...my home..."

The last voice was Don Diego. He seemed to be trying to calm his father down: "...unfamiliar...customs...different..."

Maggie fell back against the pillows. Perhaps if she just stayed in this room for the rest of her life she could get by in this new land. She secluded herself for the rest of the afternoon but as the dinner hour approach, she knew she would have to make an appearance. At the very least she would have to explain to her father what had happened. _Might as well face the music and get it over with_ , she thought. So she dressed and went down at the usual time.

She didn't know whether to be glad or upset that the chair at the head of the table stood empty. "You must excuse my Father," declared Don Diego. "He is indisposed."

Maggie wasn't surprised, nor was she surprised to discover at the end of a very subdued meal that her headache was back.


	5. Apology

**Chapter 5: Apology**

A second dose of Rosa's headache remedy at bedtime insured that Maggie awoke with a clear head the next day. Alone with her father at the breakfast table, silence reigned until the colonel began: "About _Doña_ Elvira's visit yesterday..."

His daughter cut him short. "Don't worry, I intend to ride over there today and apologize. I'm still not sure exactly what I did wrong, but I'm certainly very sorry that I did it, whatever it was."

Mid-morning found her dressed in her riding skirt and on her way to the stables. She had already decided that to avoid any further unpleasantness she would ask one of the _vaqueros_ to saddle Thunderhead for her rather than do it herself. At the stable door she saw a man that she recognized, so she approached him and asked, "Would you mind saddling my horse for me? And can you tell me how to get to the Ramirez _hacienda_?"

"You do not know the way, _señora_? Then who is to ride with you?" he inquired as he led Thunderhead out of his stall.

"I was planning on going alone."

"The patròn would not like that. I will fetch an escort for you." He disappeared into the stable before she could protest.

Thirty minutes later Maggie and _vaquero_ with a rifle cradled across his chest rode out to the south. Arriving at the Ramirez _hacienda,_ she dismounted and asked if she could speak with _Señora_ Ramirez. The steward escorted her into the _sala_ and disappeared. After a few moments she heard a step behind her and turned to find _Doña_ Elvira standing in the doorway. _"Señora Emerson_ , welcome. I did not expect to see you again so soon. Please come and sit," she said, gesturing toward the chairs.

Maggie took a deep breath. "Thank you, _Doña_ Elvira, but this won't take long. I have come to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I would like to blame everything on my headache, but that's simply not the case. There is no possible excuse for how I spoke to you, and I sincerely apologize. If you are ever kind enough to visit us again I promise you a much better reception." Having gotten all of that out in one big breath and without stumbling over her words, she continued: "And now I'll be on my way. I hope you have a pleasant day." She turned toward the door, but the older woman's voice called her back.

"I will accept your apology on one condition..." said _Doña_ Elvira,

Maggie turned back to her hostess.

"...which is that you will accept mine."

" _Doña_ Elvira, I assure you there is no need for you to apologize."

The older woman's expression softened, and the tone of her voice took on warmth. "I have thought much about it and I think there is," she said slowly. "I believe I was overly forward in speaking to you yesterday, and this I very much regret. You are a young woman who has suffered a great sorrow. Now you have come to a new land full of new faces, new things, new ideas. You do not know our customs, and, alas, we do not know yours. Come. Sit. Let us learn each other's customs together. I wish to be friends. Carmel!" a servant appeared..."I believe there are fresh honey wafers in the kitchen. Please bring us some." The servant bowed and departed.

"But I was escorted here, so a _vaquero_ is waiting for —" began Maggie.

"Your escort and your horses will be seen to. Now _por favor_ , let us make ourselves comfortable." Once settled, _Doña_ Elvira began to speak of the history of the _pueblo_ and of their _rancho_. She described the extent of their holdings, the crops they grew, the type of cattle they ran, and their horses. She told of coming from Spain with her family and of her first meeting with Don Tomás, who eventually became her husband. "If you are to live among us, you must understand that the one thing a Spaniard holds dear above all else is family, which among the landowners means _hidalgo_ blood. I know that is not the case among Americans, but to us it is of the utmost importance. Now," said the _Doña_ with genuine interest in her voice," tell me, if you will, as much about your own family as you would like to."

Maggie began describing her home and her childhood in the United States. She spoke of the workings of the farm and discovered many similarities with how things were done in California. She spoke of her parents and her father's career in Washington City. Very shortly the two women were laughing over the shared experience of being forever followed by a little sister who would not leave them alone, and who often took their things without permission. At that moment a younger woman wearing a beautiful pale blue silk gown rushed into the room, with Luisa trailing behind her.

"Mama, how do I look?!" the newcomer inquired, twirling enthusiastically.

"It is finished, Señora," added the maid.

"Teresa, where are your manners?" declared her mother sternly. "We have a guest. This is _Señora_ Emerson, who with her father is staying at the De la Vega _hacienda_."

The twirling stopped immediately and the young woman faced Maggie, nodded, and said " _Buenos Dias_ , _señora_ ," very solemnly.

"What a lovely dress!" exclaimed Maggie, observing the beautiful fabric and fine cut of the gown. "Is — is this for your wedding?"

"Oh no!" giggled Teresa. "Papa has let me have a new gown for Don Alejandro's reception!"

"Reception?" Maggie's heart sank and her face fell. She had been able to bring only essential clothing with her on the long overland trip. Her "best" outfit consisted of a black silk skirt, a white silk blouse with lace trim, and her mother's pearls. Looking at Teresa, she suddenly realized that, apart from the pearls, dressed in those clothes she would most likely be mistaken for one of the servants.

 _Doña_ Elvira, seeing the despair on Maggie's face, grasped the problem immediately. She turned to her guest. "Perhaps the limits of you trip did not permit you to bring your best things with you. And of course you have had no time to send for them," she said gently. "Yet perhaps I can help. I have several dresses that I have not worn in some time. Luisa is an excellent seamstress. I'm sure she could make one over for you." Then she added, almost conspiratorially, " Here we remake gowns all the time since we are so far from Spain and do not receive many supply ships. We just never talk about it."

"I wouldn't want you to go to so much trouble, _Doña_ Elvira _,_ especially after yesterday."

"Yesterday is long forgotten. And what harm would it do to look? Besides, it would give me great pleasure to see these gowns and remember the happy times I had wearing them." She turned to her maid. "Luisa, send two men from the stables. We will be moving some trunks."

Turning back to Maggie, her hostess smiled. "As I said, I wish us to be friends."


	6. Reception

**Chapter 6: Reception**

 _Capitán_ Enrique Sanchez Monastario preened before the mirror in his quarters, making last minute adjustments to his dress uniform. "Tell me about them," he said to _Señor_ Piña, the _pueblo's_ corrupt _licenciado_. "Or at least about the man. The woman, of course, is of no consequence."

"He is a man of firm beliefs, with great respect for the law. He asked many detailed questions as to how the law applies to property owned by foreigners. This is a man who will not be easily deceived.. He is accustomed to command, and he has been in the army longer than you have, my friend."

The _Comandante_ took one last look at himself in the mirror and was satisfied. "Hand me my gloves, _por favor_."

The _licenciado_ picked up the gloves from a nearby table and held them out. "And I would not dismiss the daughter so lightly," he said. The Colonel brought her to our last two meetings, saying he wanted the legalities to be clear to her since she was his heir. When I merely observed that these things would surely be a matter for her husband when she remarried, her father began to laugh and she looked like she wanted to slap me."

"That is because you do not understand women" replied the Capitán. "Women must be charmed, even feisty ones." He smiled at himself again in the mirror. "Perhaps especially feisty ones."

"So do you think the De la Vegas will be charmed when you show up at a reception to which you have not actually been invited?" asked Piña.

"I am the military commander of the _Pueblo_ de los Angeles, and as such it is my duty to investigate all strangers arriving in the area. Besides," said Monastario with a wicked grin, "old Don Alejandro will never make a scene in front of his _invited_ guests." He took his gloves from Piña and strode out the door.

The De la Vega _hacienda_ was always at its best when welcoming guests. The patio was full of flowers, extra tables had been brought out, bottles of _jerez_ and pitchers of _sangria_ and _lemonada_ abounded, and the generous _tapas_ table was ready. An area was reserved for the musicians. In the late afternoon guests had begun to arrive and Don Alejandro was greeting his friends and neighbors. Diego went into the _sala_ and found the colonel alone, still waiting for his daughter.

"She has not come down yet?"

"I'm afraid not," replied her father.

"People are beginning to arrive," cautioned the young don.

"Don Diego," said the colonel with some exasperation, "I was married to Maggie's mother for many happy years, and in all that time I could never figure out why it takes a women two full hours to put on one simple dress." They both laughed.

A footstep sounded behind them. The two of them turned to behold Maggie in her finery. _Doña_ Elvira's black gown now fit the colonel's daughter perfectly. _Señora_ Ramirez had also sent over a maid to dress Maggie's hair. Half of her chestnut curls were massed on the back of her head, while the rest spilled gracefully down to the nape of her neck. Glistening softly around that neck were her mother's pearls.

"My dear, you look beautiful!" beamed her father.

Diego approach and kissed her hand. "A vision of loveliness, _Señora_ ," he said, his eyes dancing.

The colonel offered his arm and she took it. "Are you ready to meet our neighbors, my dear?"

She took a deep breath and nodded.

Diego opened the door and they stepped out onto the patio.

A number of guests were already milling about. Don Alejandro was welcoming new arrivals, directing them to the food and drink, and pointing out mutual friends. As Maggie and the Colonel made their entrance, Diego's father hastened over to them and begin making introductions. Diego took his father's place near the door. _Doña_ Elvira approached with her family. "May I present my husband, Don Tomás and my daughter Teresa."

"Colonel," began Don Tomás, I am happy to meet you at last." The men shook hands. "And you also, _Señora_ Emerson. My wife has spoken much about you."

Maggie addressed _Doña_ Elvira. "I can't thank you enough for the gown."

"Does she not look enchanting?" asked _Doña_ Elvira, smiling at Maggie.

"Indeed," responded her husband, "she looks almost as lovely in that dress as you did, _mi tesoro_."

The musicians struck up a waltz. Maggie danced the first dance with her father, and the next two with young men she had just met. After two other pleasant tunes , to which Maggie did not know the steps, the players struck up another waltz and she turned to find Diego standing with his hand extended. "May I have the pleasure?" he inquired.

She nodded.

He moved them smoothly around the floor. They danced through the remaining sunny corner of the patio and she noticed how the glow of the setting sun brought out the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. She was also suddenly aware that something about having Diego as her partner made her feel more relaxed than she had in some time. Perhaps it was the way he held her? Underneath her left hand the muscles of his arm and shoulder were surprisingly solid. _He is quite graceful and athletic_ , she thought _, and very strong_ _for someone who spends all his time writing poetry_. When the waltz ended, she thanked him.

"You are an excellent dancer, " he replied. "The waltz is evidently well-taught in America." He again raised her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. "Now I am afraid I must return to playing host."

Maggie decided to find her father since she hadn't seen him for some time. A brief search found him across the patio, in conversation with three other men. She made her way through the guests and when she came up beside him she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. She caught just the last word of the conversation.

"...Zorro."

"Zorro?" she repeated. "What is 'Zorro'"?

"Not 'what,' _Señora_ , but 'who', explained Don Gregorio Pérez. El Zorro is an outlaw who frequents the area. Or at least, officially, he is an outlaw."

"I don't understand. What does it mean to be 'officially' an outlaw?" she asked.

"It means that _Comandante_ Monastario has put a price of one thousand pesos on his head. That is enough to make any man hunted as an outlaw, no matter what he has done," replied Don Gregorio.

"Much depends on one's definition of 'outlaw'," observed Don César Montoya. "Zorro defends the weak and the poor from —" here he paused a moment — "let us say, certain officials who abuse their authority."

"Not just the poor," interjected Don Nacho Torres, whose mouth had become a hard line at the mention of the _comandante_.

"But what has Zorro actually done?" continued Maggie.

"He has freed men unjustly imprisoned. He has captured _banditos_ and left them tied up near the _pueblo_ for the lancers to find. He has even brought feuding landowners together." Don Gregorio sighed. "I wish I had his youth and his courage."

"But so far I've seen nothing in the way of outlaws," Maggie observed.

"You would not have seen Zorro, _Señora_." said Don César. "Dressed all in black, he almost always rides by night. His steed is a great thundering black beast that has no equal in all of California. Zorro comes and goes as a ghost. Indeed, some of the _peons_ believe he is a ghost and that his sword is made from tail of the devil himself."

"But enough of this!" stated Don Nacho. "Observe the law truly and be kind and fair to your servants and you need have no fear of meeting El Zorro."

"That certainly sounds like good advice to me!" exclaimed Don Diego, who had overheard the conversation and allowed himself to drift up to the group.

The music struck up again and all three dons departed in search of their wives. Maggie and Diego were left standing alone. She turned to him: "Why don't they want to talk about this Zorro?"

"Let me get you a glass of something." He moved to one of the refreshment tables and returned with two new glasses of wine. I hope you like Madeira, it's one of my father's favorites.

"You haven't answered my question," she said. "Why don't they want to talk about Zorro?"

"Perhaps they simply think it is not a subject for a festive occasion such as this," he said lightly. "Salud!"

"Don Diego," she persisted, in a tone suggesting a mother wondering how her favorite vase had ended up in pieces, "you still haven't answered my question."

"You certainly have a gentle curiosity," he replied with a sigh. "Very well. For every _peon_ rescued from an injustice there is someone who has perpetrated the injustice. To the _peon_ , Zorro is a hero; to the perpetrator, Zorro is an enemy. Enemies betray, so it is not wise to bandy about Zorro's name unless you are very sure that everyone around you is a friend. So we do not usually talk about Zorro in open conversation."

"Have you ever met him?"

 _Why must everyone ask that question?_ he thought _._ "I have heard as many tales about him as everyone else, but we've never been formally introduced." He sipped his Madeira.

"Well perhaps I should meet him," she said. "With both of us dressed in black I'm sure we'd make a lovely couple. Do you supposed he knows how to waltz?"

At this remark the germ of an idea settled itself in Diego's mind, but all he said was: "I don't know if Zorro knows how to waltz — _That's only a very small lie,_ he thought — but I do know we are done talking about him. Now _por favor_ , tell me about that magnificent grey horse you ride."

Don Gregorio returned and joined their discussion of horses. Maggie had been telling them about her uncle who bred horses when the level of conversation on the patio suddenly dropped. Curious, the three of them looked around and saw the new arrival who stood just inside the patio gate. _Capitán_ Monastario, in full dress uniform, was handing his hat and gloves to servant. Don Gregorio muttered something in Spanish under his breath and strode away to the most distant location he could find without actually leaving the _hacienda_.

Maggie leaned toward Diego. "What did Don Gregorio just say?"

"I do not repeat such things to a _señora_ ," he replied.

Now Don Alejandro hastened over to his son. "Diego, did you invite him?"

"Of course not, Father. But we made no secret of the reception. It was common enough knowledge in the _pueblo_. And as the _comandante_ of the garrison we should have invited him even if only as a courtesy." Don Alejandro frowned and Diego, knowing that his father would rather eat rancid _paella_ than extend a courteous welcome to Monastario, hurried over to the _capitán_.

" _Comandante_ , you honor us with your presence," said Diego, with a welcoming bow.

"Yes, I felt that meeting the new owners of _Rancho_ Flores was long overdue. Although I cannot imagine how your invitation managed to go astray" he added coldly. "No matter now. Perhaps you would be kind enough to introduce me." The two men wound their way through the guests toward where the Colonel and Maggie were standing. Seeing the _comandante's_ approach, the two couples with whom Maggie and her father had been conversing suddenly drifted away.

"Colonel Sheraton, may I present _Capitán_ Enrique Monastario, the _comandante_ of our _pueblo's_ garrison," began Diego. The comandante snapped to attention and made a formal bow.

"I am honored to meet you, Colonel. I cannot tell you how happy I am that another military man such as myself has come to live among us. I am sure we find much in common with regard to our mutual calling. I hope we shall be great friends."

"Thank you, _Comandante_ ," replied the Colonel, a little surprised that someone two ranks beneath him would greet him more or less as an equal. No matter whose army, and retired or not, rank was still rank and always to be respected. "We're very happy to be here and to know we have the protection of you and your lancers. May I present my daughter, Mrs. Margaret Emerson."

Monastario took Maggie's hand, made an exaggerated bow, kissed her hand, and then straightened up to where his face was level with hers. "Ah _Señora_! Many have spoken of your beauty but none have done you justice."

This surprised her. _Many?! Considering that I've only been to the pueblo twice since the day we arrived I find that rather remarkable_. But she managed to keep a straight face and replied, "You are too kind, sir."

"I myself shall give a dinner for you soon. I pride myself on the good relations I have with all of our landowners." Overhearing this remark, a nearby guest choked on his wine.

The music struck up again. " _Señora_ Emerson, would you care to dance? Unless _Señor_ De la Vega here has already commanded that privilege?"

" _Comandante_ , _Señora Emerson_ dances with whom she pleases." Diego said this pleasantly enough but his eyes betrayed his irritation. Somehow the thought of _Señora_ Emerson in the _comandante's_ arms was not a pleasant one.

Maggie held out her hand and the _Capitán_ escorted her to the dancing. As they moved to the music, they made light conversation. He asked about their journey. She asked about the running of the _cuartel_. She noted his dark hair, narrow face, and immaculately groomed pointed beard. But she found his eyes cold and veiled. _This is a man who hides his true feelings_ , she dance concluded, the _comandante_ returned her to her father and Don Diego.

"And now if you all will excuse me, I must greet some of your other guests. By the way, Don Diego, where is your father?"

"I believe he has gone down to the wine cellar to select the next vintage to be served," replied Diego, although he really had no idea where Don Alejandro was.

"If I do not happen to see him this evening, please give him my respects," declared the _Capitán_ with a cold smile.

"I will certainly do that," replied Diego, whose own smile was just shy of forced.

 _Comandante_ Monastario drifted off to speak with other guests, none of whom seem happy to see him. Some time later he returned to take his leave. "I'm afraid I must depart. As you must know, Colonel, a military man has many many demands on his time. _Señora_ ," he said, bowing to Maggie yet again, "it has been a great pleasure. I look forward to seeing you again soon at my dinner."

There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief when the patio gate closed behind Monastario. Diego turned to Maggie and her father. "Well, what do you make of our _Comandante_?"

"I don't know why, but I don't think I like him and I know I don't trust him," was Maggie's opinion.

The Colonel frowned. "He's not the kind of officer I'd like to have serving under my command."


	7. Introduction

**Chapter 7: Introduction**

 **A/N: This was previously published as the free-standing story "Encounter".**

Evening was drawing on into night. The _hacienda_ patio now lay completely in shadow, and a cooling breeze was blowing up from the valley. Don Diego had retired from the _sala_ a little earlier, pleading the need for solitude to concentrate on his book of philosophy. Her father and Don Alejandro remained locked in a game of chess. Given their frequent exchanges of optimistic murmurs and irritated scowls, the contest would continue for some time.

Maggie put aside her sewing, picked up her shawl, and stepped out into the patio. It was her custom to walk briefly in the garden each evening before going up to bed. She always marveled at how dusk seemed to bring out the flowers' headiest scents. She wondered if the roses were breathing a collective sigh of relief now that the heat of the day was gone for good.

She strolled along the path that edged the plantings. She stopped in front of the _Abuela_ Rose — the bush that started life as a small cutting brought by Diego's grandmother from Spain. She had pulled down a particularly large bloom and was just inhaling its fragrance when she sensed a presence behind her. Before she could react, she felt a small pressure point in the middle of her back and a silken voice said, " _Buenos noches, Señora_. I swear I mean you no harm. Turn around slowly, and, _por favor_ , do not cry out."

She turned. A man stood there, dressed in black —black hat, black mask, black cloak pulled across the front of his body and held by his left hand at his right shoulder. And in his right hand, pointed directly at her, a sword. There was only one possibility. "You are _Señor_ Zorro," she said.

"At your service, he replied, inclining his head and bowing slightly.

"What do you want?" she asked. "Why are you here?"

"Well," he replied, smiling now, "I heard that you would like to meet me, and since I was unable to attend Don Alejandro's reception the other evening I thought I would introduce myself and welcome you to California." As he spoke the word "California" he swept the sword down and let the cloak fall away from his body revealing in his left hand a large bunch of flowers. These he held out to her.

Startled by his gesture, she hesitated. Then, since she could think of nothing else to do, she took the bouquet and breathed in its aroma. "These are beautiful!" she said with a small smile. And you are a very unusual outlaw! Or did you help yourself to these flowers from someone's garden?" she asked, half in jest.

"I take nothing," he replied, turning serious again. "I return to the weak what has been taken from them by men of great power against whom they have no defense."

"But couldn't you do that within the law? Some of Don Alejandro's guests spoke of you with...with... with admiration, almost. They described you as the friend of the _peons_ and the protector of the poor. Although everyone was careful to avoid speaking of you once the comandante showed up.

"Unfortunately, _Señora_ , the law can be corrupted and bent to evil purposes by evil men..You must not trust _Comandante_ Monastario," was the masked man's reply. "His greed and his arrogance know no bounds. _Rancho_ Flores is somewhat smaller than its neighbors and therefore it does not interest him at present. But make no mistake, he covets every acre in southern California and will not stop until he owns all of it. Beware of him especially when he puts on the guise of friendship. That is when he is the most dangerous."

"Maggie! Are you out here?" came her father's voice across the patio. His tone suggested the chess game had resolved itself in his favor.

"Yes, I'm here," she answered, turning toward the doorway. "I was just going up". Knowing they were hidden by the darkness and the greenery, she turned again to Zorro. "Thank you for your advice about the _comandante._ I'll keep it in mind, but having actually met him I'm not surprised at your warning. And... thank you for the flowers." She sniffed the blooms again and her expression became distant. "It's been a long time since anyone brought me ... flowers..." her voice trailed off.

"Then I must bring more again soon!" he offered, smiling at her. "Until we meet again, _Señora"._ He saluted her with his sword, pulled his cloak about him, turned, and was gone into the darkness. A few moments later she heard hoofbeats fading away into the night.

The rider was not Zorro, but Bernado. Diego's servant galloped half a mile down the road, then slowed the horse to a walk and turned off into a side trail. Fifty yards later the trail ended at the back of one of the De La Vega stable corrals. Bernardo unsaddled the horse and let it back into the corral, then restored the saddle and bridle to their places among the ordinary gear. No one would ever realize that one of the mounts had been ridden that night. Zorro, meanwhile, made his way around the hacienda wall and entered through the window of his father's study. Crossing the room quickly, he pressed the hidden trigger and slipped into secret passageway. He climbed the stairs up to the entrance to Diego's room and changed out of his Zorro garb. A short while later Bernardo joined him in the bedroom.

"Did you return the horse?" Diego asked.

Bernardo nodded firmly.

"Did anyone see you?"

Bernardo shook his head equally firmly.

"Well, we have done some good, my friend. I believe I actually saw the _Señora_ Emerson smile. And your choice of flowers was excellent! I'm curious as to where you got them, but —" he raised his eyebrows, "I really don't think I want to know."

Bernardo just smiled.

The _Señora_ Emerson is a woman who carries a great sadness," said Diego thoughtfully. "I think Zorro should bring her flowers again."

Bernardo looked askance at his _patròn_. He pointed at Diego, drew a "Z" in the air and then a heart shape, all the while slowly shaking his head.

"No, Bernardo," laughed Diego, "nothing like that will come of this, I promise you. I merely want to lift the young _señora's_ spirits a little."

Bernardo wasn't exactly sure that was true.


	8. Deliverance

**Chapter 8: Deliverance**

On market days the plaza of the Pueblo de los Angeles normally wore a festive air. Farmers brought their produce and livestock and set up stands. Shopkeepers opened early. The inn's _taberna_ did its best business all week. Today the festive air was lacking. _Capitán_ Monastario had ordered a flogging at noon. A _vaquero_ working for Don Carlos Yorba had gotten into a fight with another _vacquero_ over whose turn it was to pay for their wine. Don Carlos's man had the ill luck to shove the lancer who tried to settle the matter amicably. Now that man would pay a painful price.

Don Carlos, who had come into the _pueblo_ , was furious for two reasons. First, because the _comandante_ had refused to accept a fine in lieu of the flogging, and a whipped _vacquero_ was of no good to anyone for at least a week. Second, because one of the don's finest horses had disappeared from his stable last night.

About thirty yards down the road leading into the _pueblo_ , Zorro crouched behind a group of large boulders halfway up the hillside. Just behind him, tethered out of sight in a small grove of trees, were Tornado and Don Yorba's missing horse. This vantage point gave Zorro a direct view into the plaza. As soon as he could see the soldiers leading the unfortunate _vacquero_ out to the whipping post he would mount up and disrupt the proceedings.

Maggie and her father were unaware of what was about to happen. They had simply ridden in for market day.

Just at noon the _cuartel_ gates began to open Six lancers, one of them carrying a whip, surrounded a shirtless man whose hands were tied behind him. They were leading him over to the post — a sturdy log with a cross piece fastened at the top.

Zorro saw this and strode back to the horses. He mounted Tornado and took the leading rein of the second horse. He allowed the horses to pick their way carefully down the slope to the road, then he kicked the great stallion into a full gallop. Zorro had looked over Don Carlos's horses carefully and had chosen one that would have no trouble keeping up with his own mount.

The soldiers now untied their prisoner's hands and re-tied each hand to one end of the cross piece. The lancer carrying the whip uncoiled it and worked a few strokes in the air to loosen the leather.

It was now clear to Colonel Sheraton and his daughter what was about to happen. "I don't think I want to watch this," declared Maggie. She had been vaguely aware of the sound of approaching hoofbeats, but as she turned away from the scene she found herself in the path of a magnificent black steed bearing a black-clad rider and thundering into the plaza and. Zorro! Someone jerked her roughly out of the way and she almost fell. Her hat flew off and was carried away in the rush of the horses' passing.

Zorro sent Tornado down the right side of the open space, now drawing his sword. As he neared the whipping post he guided Tornado around in front of the post and reared the horse up on his hind legs. The lancers scattered. Horse and sword descended together. Two quick strokes sliced the ropes that bound the prisoner's hands to the cross piece. Zorro tossed him the reins of the other horse. "There is your patròn," cried Zorro, pointing to where _Señor_ Yorba and his men stood. "Don Carlos," shouted Zorro, "take your _vacquero_ and your horse home. I apologize for borrowing your horse without your permission!" The don and his men mounted up and took off, surrounding their _vaquero_ and heading back toward their _rancho_ at breakneck speed.

Zorro wheeled Tornado around and headed toward the open _cuartel_ gates. He took hold of first one gate then the other and shoved each closed to slow any riders who might chase him. _Comandante_ Monastario, who considered attending a mere flogging beneath his dignity, heard the commotion and was hurrying across the _cuartel_ yard toward plaza. He reached the gates just in time to have one of them hit him full in the face, knocking him to the ground. He was momentarily stunned, and then infuriated as he felt blood running from his nose. "After him, lancers," he screamed.

Zorro had turned Tornado and was heading back out of the plaza. He was looking forward to a quick ride home and a quicker transformation back into Diego. Then he noticed a small object lying on the ground ahead and to his right. He remembered seeing it fly up as he rode into the plaza, and he suddenly recognized it as the _Señora_ Emerson's hat. A mischievous smile came onto his face. He knew that there wasn't a horse in the _cuatel's_ stable that could catch Tornado, so he decided to risk a small detour. A quick glance located the se _ñ_ ora in the crowd. He aimed Tornado toward the hat, then slipped his left foot from its stirrup and grasped the pommel of his saddle with his left hand. Approaching the hat at full gallop, he swooped low and snatched it up off of the ground. He pulled Tornado up directly in front of Maggie and leaned down. "Your hat, I believe, _señora_!" he grinned.

In full daylight, and much closer to the masked face now than she had been in the twilight garden, Maggie saw merry hazel eyes flecked with gold, a thin moustache, and a smile that almost stopped her heart. " _Gracias_..." she replied, and surprised herself by breaking into a smile that answered the masked rider's. Then he saluted her and turned the stallion out of the plaza. She watch him gallop away and admired how he and his mount were perfectly matched, rider and horse moving as one. The _Capitán's_ order was being ignored. The lancers weren't even going to pretend to chase him.

Zorro was pleased with his work. Not only had the _vacquero_ escaped a whipping, but _Señora_ Emerson had smiled at him. He decided he liked seeing _Señora_ Emerson smile.


	9. Misadventure

**Chapter 9: Misadventure**

 **A/N:** _ **Duende**_ **means "pixie" in Spanish.**

Colonel Robert Sheraton had declared a holiday of sorts. For the past three weeks a small army of craftsman, tradesmen, hired _peons_ and borrowed servants had been working at cleaning and repairing the _hacienda_ and outbuildings of the _Rancho_ Flores. Although the Colonel was happy with what he called his "domestic command," he recognized when enough was enough and told everyone to take four days' rest. Those who wished to return to their homes in the _pueblo_ could do so. Those who wished to remain at the _rancho_ would have food provided.

Maggie celebrated by sleeping late and indulging in breakfast up in her room. She worked for a while on sewing the new riding skirt that Luisa had measured and fit. When she tired of this she decided to go riding and to invite Don Diego to ride with her as usual. But when she descended to the _sala_ she found it and the patio strangely empty. A conversation with Arturo told her that Don Gregorio's prize mare had foaled; Don Alejandro, Don Diego, and her father had ridden over to inspect the new arrival. So mid-afternoon found her walking out alone to the stables looking for someone to saddle Thunderhead.

"Good afternoon, Pablo," she greeted one of the stable hands. "Would you saddle Thunderhead for me please."

"I am sorry, _Señora_ , I cannot do that. He has lost a shoe and Benito has taken him to the blacksmith for a new one."

"Will he be back soon?" she asked.

"I do not think so," replied Pablo. "They only left a little while ago and _Señor_ Gomez the blacksmith can be very busy at times." Noticing her frown, he quickly added, "Perhaps you would care to ride one of Don Alejandro's horses? They are very fine mounts, and the _patròn_ often offers them to guests. Shall I pick one for you, _Señora?"_

"Yes, thank you!" He started toward the stalls, and then suddenly turned back toward her.

"You would like a spirited horse, _sí_?"

"Definitely _sí_."

In a few minutes he returned leading a light brown mare with a white diamond on her forehead. "This is _Duende_. She is strong but very gentle, and she loves to run. I think you will enjoy her very much." Maggie rubbed the mare's forehead, then ran her hand down the sleek neck. _Duende_ shook her head and stamped, seemingly anxious to be out of the stable and into the countryside.

"She'll do just fine. Thank you so much, Pablo." And with that Maggie mounted up and turned the horse out to the road and away from the _hacienda_.

Riding out often with Don Diego had made her familiar with the surrounding countryside. She decided it would be safest today for her to stick to the routes the two of them had taken together. When she arrived at the first large meadow, she kicked _Duende_ into a canter and then into a full gallop. For Maggie there had always been something magical about speeding over the earth on the back of a horse. Even in the worst of moods she felt soothed by the rhythm of the movement beneath her, the coil and release of the horse's muscles, the pounding of hooves, the wind in her own face. She believed it was as close to flying as she would ever get. Bent low over _Duende's_ neck, she thought: _She isn't Thunderhead, but she's wonderful!_

She slowed _Duende_ , then headed to a nearby stream and dismounted. Maggie looked at the horse and laughed. "You aren't even breathing hard!" The mare lowered her head and began to drink. Looking around, she recognized where she was among the hills. She and Don Diego came here often. Suddenly she realized that she missed him. She'd stolen an occasional glance at him as they rode. He seemed a natural horseman. When they galloped across a meadow, horse and rider moved as one. His profile in the saddle was handsome. He sat easily and he kept his mount in control with a soft touch on the reins. And he was so...so... reassuring. She always felt somehow protected... that nothing could go wrong when he was around. He always knew the right thing to say when she'd bungled a situation, especially a situation involving his father. And he had such merry hazel eyes... _Enough of this_ , she said, pulling herself back to her surroundings. _You didn't come out here to daydream._ And she mounted up.

She and _Duende_ spent another pleasant two hours roaming the hills, now cantering, now galloping, now walking. A cool breeze sprang up. As Maggie gazed at the sky, the position of the sun told her that she had stayed out later than usual. She also thought rain was on the way.

"Well, girl, it's time we headed home." She was in the largest of the meadows that they frequented, the one with the fallen trees that she always jumped with Thunderhead as the last thing before she and Diego headed home. Noting that the light was still decent, she decided to try the jump with _Duende_. Maggie trotted the horse back to the opposite end of the field, then kicked _Duende_ into a gallop and headed straight for the downed trees. The mare gained speed as they approached the logs. But _Duende_ was not Thunderhead in more ways than one. Just when Thunderhead would have gathered his powerful hindquarters for the leap, _Duende_ balked, sensing that the jump was too much for her. Maggie sailed out of the saddle, cleared most of the trees, then tumbled into darkness.

Don Gregorio's guests had pronounced the foal beautiful, its sire and dam exceptional, and the brandy very mellow indeed. Now they had finished their cigars and were about to take their leave. "I am afraid you will have to hurry, _señores_ ," declared their host. "I believe a storm is coming." The soft clouds that had begun to gather shortly after their arrival had massed into a grim sky. The Colonel thought he heard distant thunder.

"We thank you for your hospitality, my friend," said Don Alejandro. "And if we make haste I believe we can make it back before the rain begins." He was almost right. Half a mile from the De la Vega hacienda fat drops began falling out of the sky. The three men spurred their horses, arriving at the stable yard just as thunder clapped directly overhead and a downpour began. Running in through the cold rain they went into the _sala_ and sought the warmth of the fire. A moment later Arturo entered, frowning.

" _Señores_ , is the _Señora_ Emerson with you?" he inquired.

"Maggie? Why no. Isn't she here?" replied her father.

"No _señor_. She went out riding earlier and has not yet returned."

"You mean she's out in that!" exclaimed the Colonel, pointing out the window at the heavy rain.

"I do not know where she is, _señor._ Ionly know that she went riding earlier and has not returned."

 _I should have gone with her_ , thought Diego.

Don Alejandro spoke up. "Let us dry off and find fresh clothes. When the storm passes we will go find her." But the storm persisted. Wind and driving rain rolled in and out over the next several hours. By the time the storm had truly passed, the light was fading. "We will have to wait until morning," declared the elder De la Vega. Colonel Sheraton was beside himself with worry but he knew Don Alejandro was right. It was far too dangerous to take horses out in the dark in all that mud.

Later everyone retired, but not everyone slept. Diego sat wide awake in his room, idly paging through a book. He had already changed into black shirt and pants, but as a precaution he also was wearing his dressing gown. With the book at hand he could easily appear to have been reading if anyone came to his door. Two hours past midnight he looked out his widow and saw that the nearly full moon had risen. He knew the ground was still wetter than he would like, but as Zorro he had great experience at navigating the hills at night. He felt he must search for _Señora_ Emerson, and now there was enough light for Zorro to ride.

Down in the cave he saddled Tornado. "We are going on a little excursion, my friend. But we must be careful of the slippery ground. Tonight you will be making your way carefully, not galloping like the whirlwind whose name you bear." Once they exited the cave he halted Tornado, rose in the stirrups, and looked out over the countryside. In the moonlight the landscape appeared vast. _Where would she go?,_ he wondered. _She is an intelligent woman and she is adventurous but not reckless. As she is alone, perhaps she would follow one of our usual routes?_ He turned the stallion south and picked up a track that he knew joined the path the two of them regularly rode.

It would be a long night of slow going.


	10. Rescue

**Chapter 10: Rescue**

 **A/N:** _ **Duende**_ **means "pixie" in Spanish.**

The first meadow held no trace of either woman or horse. As he made his way to the second meadow, he argued with himself. One part of him asked, _Did you have to go and see a foal? Have you never seen a foal before? Did you think perhaps this one was born with wings?_ Another part answered, _She is a grown woman who makes her own decisions. She doesn't need a duenna, and if she did it would not be you_. The first part replied, _Yes but she's still a guest and you have an obligation to keep her from danger._ _You should have been there to go with her._ The second part countered: _You are neither her father nor her husband. You couldn't have prevented this. So stop thinking and ride!_

When he reached the second meadow it, too, was empty. The last meadow, he recalled, was the one with the log pile that she always jumped just before they began their return home. _Idiota! She loves the long gallop and that jump. She must be there!_ He urged Tornado onward.

He was just coming out of the trees when he saw a large pale shape — _Duende_! He spurred Tornado, mud be damned, over to the mare and dismounted next to a dark heap on the ground. Kneeling, he carefully rolled her over, then patted her cheek gently. " _Señora_ Emerson!" No response. He shook her slightly. " _Señora_ Emerson!" Still no response. _Madre de Dios how badly is she hurt?_ He felt his heart begin to race and he patted her cheek again, a little harder this time. "Margarita!" he said, surprising himself at his use of her given name. Now her eyelids fluttered and she groaned.

She opened her eyes to a black haze, then closed them. She felt cold. _It must be Christmas...I fell asleep out on the porch...it snowed...I'm so cold...it must have snowed..._ She opened her eyes again and the haze resolved itself into a masked face: two hazel eyes, a nose, a moustache, a mouth. "Zorro?"

His heart began to slow down. " _Señora_ are you hurt?"

She started to raise herself up on one elbow. "No, I don't think — Ah!" She fell back on the grass. Now he saw that her left shoulder was twisted out of position.

"Move very carefully and I will help you sit up." He slid his left arm under her back and placed his right hand behind her right shoulder and lifted very gently. She gritted her teeth but managed to sit upright.

" _Señora_ what happened?"

"I forgot I wasn't riding Thunderhead. I tried to jump the woodpile on Don Alejandro's horse. The mare!" cried Maggie, looking around and earning herself a fresh stab of pain for the effort. " Where is she? Is she all right?"

" _Duende_ is fine, _Señora._ Much better than you are, I fear."

"I'm not surprised. She is smarter than I am," returned Maggie, closing her eyes tight and shaking her head. "She knew she couldn't make it so she balked and sent me flying. Why am I all wet?"

"We have had a great storm. That is what has kept your father from searching for you."

"But it hasn't kept you from searching?"

"I have much more practice riding at night," Zorro said with a wry grin. And a much better horse. Now we must get you home. Do you think you can stand?" With some effort she struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on him. It was clear she could not ride. He whistled and Tornado approached. With some coaxing Zorro was able to make the stallion kneel. He lifted Maggie onto the saddle and Tornado stood up. Uncoiling the saddle rope, the masked man fashioned a long lead for Don Alejandro's mare. Then he climbed up behind Maggie and put his left arm around her waist. "We will go slowly so your shoulder will not be jarred." Zorro walked Tornado back across the meadow and into the trees. Maggie was not still sure she was awake. She was cold and wet and sore and weak. Surely this dream would be over any minute now.

" _Señora_ , you are shivering. Lean back on me," said his low silken voice. This she did, and he managed to wrap his cape around them both. He was certainly strong. He had lifted her into the saddle almost without effort. Now he held her securely and the closeness of his body against hers began to warm her. Tornado's even, steady gait began to sooth her as well. She leaned her cheek against his shirt and felt herself beginning to unwind.

All at once Tornado pulled up, snorted, and pricked his ears forward. Zorro was instantly alert. Sensing the sudden tension Maggie, too, stirred and looked around. Zorro surveyed the path, and just ahead among the trees he saw half a dozen silver shadows. Coyotes? Wolves? He leaned down to her ear, his cheek brushing against her hair. "Remain calm, _Señora_. I would never let anything harm you."

In a sling behind the saddle he carried a loaded pistol. It was not his favorite weapon but it protected at a greater distance than the blade or the whip. The whip was tied at his left hip. "Whip or pistol?" he asked himself softly.

"I'd — Ah! — use the whip," she offered, overhearing him. "It should be enough to scare them. With the pistol you have only one shot." After a moment he decided that she was right and he untied the whip. Shaking it out to its full length, he swung the lash in a full circle above his head three times then flicked his wrist. A loud "crack" rent the silence of the forest. Twice more he snapped the leather and when the third "crack" died away the shadows were gone.

As he coiled up the whip he bent to her ear again. "Now we will get you home." Once more his cheek brushed her hair. _How soft it is_ , he thought. He adjusted his cape around her and she settled back against him once more. _A remarkable woman_ , he thought, _to maintain her composure in such circumstances, and in pain from an injury._

"I am sorry to have caused you all this trouble," she said softly. I never should have tried such a jump on someone else's horse."

"I am sure _Duende_ forgives you. But you should not have gone riding alone, no matter which mount you took. Your father is extremely worried."

"Very well,' Papa', I will never go riding without Don Diego again, I promise," she declared, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"A wise choice, _Señora,"_ he said, smiling to himself _._ Thirty minutes later they arrived at the _hacienda_. It was still hours until dawn and no one was stirring. He dismounted, drew his sword, and began to pound with the hilt on the patio gate. "Ahora! De la Vega hacienda!" he shouted. "Ahora!" Then he retrieved his pistol and fired it into the air. A few seconds later a light appeared in one of the windows up on the balcony. Then another light in a second window. "Forgive me, _Señora,_ but I must leave you here." He lifted her down from the saddle. "I am sure your father will arrive momentarily."

Within the patio walls doors opened.

"I don't know how to thank you, _Señor_ Zorro," she said wearily. "I hope I can find a way to repay you some day."

Footsteps crossed the patio.

"I am happy to be of service," he replied, taking her hand and raising it toward his lips. "But do not ride alone again." He lingered and looked into her eyes for a moment. The moonlight gave their sea-green color a depth not seen by day. He kissed her hand, then returned to the horses, untied the mare's lead, and mounted Tornado.

Don Alejandro and the Colonel arrived at the gate together. "Maggie! Where have you been?!" cried her father, rushing to embrace her.

"Stop _Señor_!" commanded Zorro.

The Colonel looked up at him, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Her shoulder is badly injured," explained the outlaw. "You must be careful how you help her." Then he wheeled his stallion away and was gone into the night.

Don Alejandro, hearing this exchange turned to the servant behind him. "Send a man for Dr. Avila." The servant nodded and rushed back into the house.

"What happened?" asked her father.

"I was stupid. I tried to take a jump that was too big for my mount. Don Alejandro, don't worry, your mare — Ah!" she winced as she nodded her head toward _Duende_ , "...your mare is fine. Zorro found me and brought me home."

Leaning on her father, Maggie slowly made her way to her room where Buena had already built up the fire and another servant was turning down the bed. The Colonel sat his daughter on a chair and knelt to remove her riding boots. Cresencia arrived at the doorway, dressed but with her hair in disarray. "We must get you out of those wet things, _Señora_." She turned to the two men. "Please leave us, _señores_. We will call you when she is in bed," the housekeeper commanded. They obediently retreated to _sala_.

A few moments after the Colonel and Don Alejandro had seated themselves, they were joined by Don Diego. "How is she?" he asked.

"Diego, where have you been? A guest is injured and you are nowhere to be seen," said his father, scowling.

"I heard the pistol shot and went out to the balcony," he replied. "With everyone milling around the patio you hardly needed me. I thought it was best to stay out of the way," he replied meekly. "But how is she?"

"The women have made her comfortable, and we are waiting for the doctor," explained the Colonel.

A short while later the sound of horses approaching announced the arrival of Dr. Eduardo Avila. Entering the _sala_ , he began, "Alejandro, my old friend, who is hurt?"

"Our guest, the _Señora_ Emerson. A riding accident. She has perhaps broken her shoulder. Buena will show you to her room."

"A riding accident at this time of night?"

The Colonel looked at the doctor. "You've never met my daughter."

Twenty-five minutes later the doctor returned. "The shoulder was not broken. It was merely dislocated and I was able to restore it to its position. There is also some bruising and some scratches, but nothing serious. I have given her something to make her sleep, and left something for pain with Cresencia in case the _señora_ needs it. She is to stay in bed for two days. After than she may get up, but under no circumstances is she to so much as look at a horse for two weeks. If she develops a fever, summon me." Doctor Avila turned to the Colonel. " Your daughter is most courageous, _señor_. Fixing a dislocation is always very painful, yet she made no sound when I did it. Some men I have treated have not borne up as well.

"Can I see her?," asked her father.

"Sí, she might still be awake. I must now be on my way. _Buenos noches_."

The three men went up to Maggie's room. The door was slightly ajar, and the Colonel pushed it open and looked in. She was not quite asleep. Her father went in and took up her hand. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm going to be fine, don't worry about me," she said drowsily.

Diego, looking over her father's shoulder, could see her. Relaxed now, with her chestnut hair framing her face against the pale pillow, he thought her quite beautiful.

Returning to his room, he was met by Bernardo. He slipped out of his dressing gown and quickly traded Zorro's black pants and shirt for the nightshirt that the _muzo_ held out to him. "Yes, I know it was a risk not to change completely, but I had to be sure she was all right. Fortunately no one noticed the dark pants. Go to bed, Bernardo. It's much too late — or perhaps much too early — for anyone to be up."

Once his servant had gone, he sank down on his bed, weary to the bone. _Madre de Dios_ , _gracias,_ he offered up a small prayer of thanks that no lasting harm had come to Maggie. As the tension began to melt away, he remembered her mettle in the face of the wolves. He remembered the feel of her hair against his cheek. He remembered what it was like to hold her close, both of them wrapped in his cape. He wondered if such a closeness would ever be possible again. Then he fell into a deep sleep.

Maggie was also remembering. She remembered waking to a blur that resolved itself into a face. She remembered the tenderness in his voice and the gentleness with which he had helped her sit up. She remember how easily he had lifted her in and out of the saddle, and how comforting the nearness and warmth of his body was. But just before she fell asleep, there popped into her mind a question which, had she not been so exhausted, might have kept her awake: _How did Zorro know the name of Don Alejandro's mare?_


	11. Interlude

**Chapter 11: Interlude**

 **A/N:** _ **La Pavana Real**_ **is my own invention**.

Maggie had be up and around for four days now, slowly recuperating from her riding accident. She would have loved to be able to be readying the _hacienda_ at _Rancho_ Flores, but her father, citing what he call her "adventurous nature," had forbidden her to leave the De la Vega grounds. Likewise, Don Alejandro had informed the servants and stablehands in no uncertain terms that anyone who assisted Maggie in going off wandering, even in a carriage, would be dismissed on the spot.

Fortunately for her, it was her left shoulder that had been injured, so her right side was free to brush her hair, hold a book, sew, or groom Thunderhead. Entertaining as all these might have been, she was beginning to feel restless. She had been pacing the balcony above the patio for some time when she realized she heard the sound of a guitar. Stopping and listening at each door, she finally found the room from which the music was coming. She knocked gently.

" _Entra_ ," came a familiar voice. She opened the door to behold Diego sitting on the edge of his bed, guitar in hand. "Senora Emerson," he said, surprised to see her standing in the doorway, "is there something you need?"

"Oh no, Don Diego. I just heard you playing, and I wondered if I might listen?"

"I hardly think my playing deserves an audience," he stated modestly. "You are most welcome to listen, but I think perhaps it would be best to listen somewhere other than my room. My father and most of the Pueblo de los Angeles would be scandalized to find us here unchaperoned."

"But I have been a married woman," she protested.

"Quite frankly," he laughed, "I don't know whether that would make it better or worse. In any case, let us go down to the _sala_."

Settling themselves, Diego adjusted one or two of the instrument's strings and began to play. He played several soft tunes, and then a gypsy dance. "You and your guitar are great friends," observed Maggie.

"Well, we have known each other since I was a boy. My father was chiefly concerned with managing the _rancho_ and making a living, as he should have been. It was my mother who told me that I was going to grow up to be a _caballero_ , and that meant I had to learn to play the guitar whether I wanted to or not. She insisted that she had never met a Spaniard who could not learn to play the guitar. Do you play? We have a piano," he added, nodding toward the other end of the room.

"It's been too long. According to my mother I was going to grow up to be a proper lady, and that meant I had to learn to play the piano whether I wanted to or not. But after she died I let it go and I haven't played in years." She paused. "Although I still enjoy music. So please, play another song. This is most enjoyable, and I'm feeling very very cooped up just now, with not being able to ride."

"Well then, perhaps we should pretend that you are the princess imprisoned in the tower and I am your faithful troubadour come to serenade you." She smiled at that. _Ah, a smile for me and not for Zorro for a change!_ He began a formal piece with a long, strummed introduction followed by a stately plucked melody."

"That's beautiful, what is it?"

"it is _'La Pavana Real_ ,' a court dance performed on formal occasions in honor of His Majesty. It is a fairly complex dance, not easy to learn," he said, continuing the music. "I danced it once or twice as a student in Spain, and I'm afraid I didn't do it very well."

When he concluded the _pavana_ , he began a slower, more languid gypsy tune. She studied his face as his fingers move skillfully over the strings. His hair had fallen slightly forward, and his face seemed to reflect the mood of the melody itself: now introspective, now pleasantly at ease, now spirited. When he was finished, she applauded. He turned to her and said, "Perhaps you will allow me to show you something of the guitar? Come."

He led her over to the piano bench, seating her at the narrow end and handing her the guitar. "First, the right hand plays the strings," he explained, guiding her hand to the sound hole. "Now the left hand goes here," he continued, taking her left hand and placing it at the top of the neck. But her response was a wince. Her left shoulder was still too sore. "Hmm, let us try something else." He moved her left hand to the base of the neck, saying, "Hold it here, firmly." He sat down close behind her. With his left arm brushing her shoulder, he brought his hand up to the neck. Then he reached around her waist with his right hand, and grasped the body of the instrument to hold it steady.

"Now, if you will strum, _Señora_ , I will work the chords. Shall we play a waltz?" He counted out the three-quarter time, and she began to strum in time. Her first efforts were ragged.

"Oh dear," she giggled.

"Just use the pad of your thumb, in one smooth motion," he instructed.

She tried again and the result was better. "Like that?" she asked, turning to look at him.

Their faces were less than a handbreadth apart. She saw his hazel eyes shining with an emotion she was afraid to identify. She saw the fine planes of his face, which seemed to be drawing ever so slowly closer to hers. He noted the curve of her cheek and the fullness of her lips, softly parted, inviting his kiss. Surely she could hear his heart pounding as they drew closer, for it was thundering in his own ears.

Somewhere in the _hacienda_ a door banged shut, startling them both. A few seconds later, by the time a servant passed through the other end of the _sala_ and out to the patio, Diego was sitting alone on the piano bench once again tuning his guitar, and Maggie was standing beside the piano carefully studying the piece of music she held in her hand.

She never noticed she was holding the music upside down.


	12. Performance

**Chapter 12: Performance**

"Bernardo! If you don't stop shaking your head so hard it will fall right off your shoulders!" chided Don Diego. He was changing into his Zorro garb, and Bernardo was standing there frowning even as he held out the black mask and hat. "This is a very simple matter. Since El Zorro brought the _Señora_ Emerson home after her riding accident it is only natural that he should pay a brief call to inquire after her health. I probably don't even need to take the sword." The _muzo's_ reaction to this was to roll his eyes and resume shaking his head. "Did you bring the flowers?" Bernardo reached over to a shelf and produced a large bouquet of blossoms. "Do I want to know where you got them?" More shaking. "And you, too, have a part to play this evening," declared Zorro. Now Bernardo pointed to himself and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yes, you," replied his _patròn_. "Now here is what I want you to do..."

Maggie was enjoying their last few day at the De la Vega _hacienda_. In four days she and her father would be moving permanently to _Rancho_ Flores. They had decided to keep the original name since suddenly calling the property " _Rancho_ Sheraton" would just confuse everyone. She was attempting to finish a book she had borrowed from Don Diego when she heard a loud clatter from across the patio. She got up and crossed to the far corner to discover that the cord of one of the hanging plants had split and the pot had fallen to the ground and broken. _I must remember to tell Arturo about that_ , she thought to herself. Bernardo, now pressing himself back into the large bushes, thought: _That_ is _the first thing._

Returning to her seat, she was startled to discover a large bouquet of flowers now sitting next to her book. Looking around with a sense of anticipation, she heard the now familiar silken voice behind her: " _Buenos tardes, Señora._ ." She turned and was not in the least surprised to see Zorro standing there.

"I am beginning to think you really are a ghost," she declared with a smile. "You certainly seem to come and go as you please! How do you do it?"

He laughed. "That is my secret, _Señora_ , and ghosts do not reveal their secrets."

"So you came just to bring me flowers?" She was astonished.

"I believe I told you I would bring you more flowers. But I also wanted to see for myself how you are recovering from your fall."

"I'm mending well and it's very kind of you to ask, but you should not take such a risk just to find out how I'm doing. What if you run into a lancer patrol?"

"That is my affair, _Señora,_ but I assure you I can take care of myself. You are truly feeling well?"

"Yes," she insisted. "The bruising is all healed and I have just a little stiffness in —" They heard a door open and both of them looked up to the balcony. Someone had taken a few steps out onto the balcony then retreated back into the room as if to retrieve some forgotten item.

 _That is the second thing,_ thought Bernardo.

"Don Diego! I must go," said Zorro.

Surprised, she looked at him. "Do you mean to tell me you are afraid of Don Diego?"

"I am not afraid of Don Diego," he replied. "But he is an honorable man and if he finds me here he might feel obligated to defend you. And then I would be obligated to defend myself. And then who knows what might happen when swords cross?"

"Yes," she said softly, almost to herself and looking back up at the balcony. "Don Diego is an honorable man. And a kind man...and a gentle man. Yet I believe there is steel in him. He tries to hide it, but I feel it's there..." Her voice trailed off. Thinking back to that afternoon when the two of them had tried to play his guitar together, when she was positive he was about to kiss her, she realized that the last thing she wanted was for Diego to be hurt in foolish swordplay. Turning back to Zorro, she said, "Yes, it is best if you go now. I wouldn't want you crossing swords with Don Diego. I do thank you for the flowers. And perhaps someday you will explain to me how you come and go unseen. I really would like to know. Really."

"Such a gentle curiosity," he murmured, smiling and shaking his head. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, then gazed at her for a moment. " _Buenos tardes Señora."_

As he was speaking she looked at his masked face and thought, _There is something familiar about him. Is it possible that I know this man?_ He released her hand and backed away into the garden as silently as he had come.

Once again Zorro entered the _hacienda_ through the study window and rushed across the room to the secret door. By the time he reached his bedroom upstairs he had removed his hat, mask, black bandanna, and cape, and Bernardo was there holding Diego's shirt and pants. _That_ _is the third thing,_ thought the _muzo_.

Diego changed more quickly than he thought possible and then casually sauntered out the door to the balcony, leaving Bernardo to gather up Zorro's clothing. Descending to the patio, the young don found Maggie holding the flowers. "Ah! Such lovely flowers!" he exclaimed. "Where did you get them?"

"Zorro brought them."

"Zorro! The outlaw?! Here in the _hacienda_?!" he cried in alarm. He grasped both of Maggie's shoulders. "Did he harm you?"

"Oh no," she reassured him. But this did not seem to calm him in the least.

"Arturo!" he called. "Arturo, summon the _vaqueros_. El Zorro has been here! We must search the house!" He looked at Maggie. "Perhaps I should put on a sword. I think...I think there is a sword in my father's study." He started toward the _hacienda_ door."

"Don Diego, wait, please! I don't think that's necessary," she tried to calm him. "Zorro brought the flowers and asked how I was feeling, and then he left. That's all that happened. I'm sure if he had planned on stealing something he would hardly have made his presence so obviously known."

"Yet I will ask Arturo and Bernardo to look over the _hacienda_ just in case," he declared firmly.

"And I really don't think you'll need a sword," she added with a small smile.

"Perhaps not," he replied, "but at least I will find out where I may find one in case this ever happens again." He crossed the patio and went inside.

Maggie returned to her book, but found she could not read. Something about Zorro had seem so familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly what. And there was something else, something he'd said that jogged a memory. He had said: "Such a gentle curiosity." It was the phrase "gentle curiosity." She was sure she'd heard it before, but who had said it and when?

Diego, now back in his room with Bernardo, was congratulating himself on a fine performance. "You see, I told you it was a simple matter," he declared cheerfully. "Zorro the gallant _caballero_ kept his promise to bring her flowers, and asked about her recovery. And I think that I almost did manage to be in two places at the same time.

He didn't realize he had dropped a clue.


	13. Concealment

**Chapter 13: Concealment**

Bernardo's supposed deafness often provided very useful information. Two days ago he had driven Rosa to the pueblo for supplies, and although he appeared to be sitting and playing with the innkeeper's dog while waiting for the wagon to be loaded he was actually listening to a nearby conversation. A guest on his way to San Diego was said to be traveling with a small chest full of gold coins that was now locked up in the innkeeper's strongroom. The three men at the next table were planning to relieve the traveler of this particular burden. Bernardo remained occupied with both the dog and the conversation until the storekeeper waved to indicate the wagon was ready to return to the De la Vega _hacienda_. Bernardo was sure Zorro would be interested in what he had overheard.

The innkeeper's strongroom had no windows. But somehow no one had noticed that it shared a thin plank wall with the storeroom, which had two windows and a door with an old lock. Near midnight, the three men crept across the inn's stableyard, tools and weapons in hand. They had reached the storeroom door and were examining the lock by the light of a lantern. When they had succeeded in breaking the hasp open, a low voice interrupted their work: "Excuse me, _señores_ , but I think our innkeeper would prefer to keep his valuables and his brandy undisturbed."

"Zorro!" one of the men exclaimed. The outlaw, drawn sword in hand, emerged from the darkness at the corner of the building. His mere presence was enough to send two of the thieves running out into the plaza. The third decided to make a stand and drew own blade. Steel flashed on steel as they fought their way around the stableyard _._ "You are a decent enough swordsman, my friend," observed Zorro, parrying an excellent thrust. "Perhaps you should consider making a living by giving fencing lessons instead of robbing inns." Now there came the sound of many men running across the plaza. The two fleeing thieves, suddenly remembering the price on Zorro's head, had run not for cover, but into the _cuartel_ yard, shouting that Zorro was at the inn, and the garrison had turned out. Hearing the lancers approaching, Zorro thought, _Enough of this_. With a flick of his wrist that was both strong and elegant, he sent his opponent's sword flying just as Sergeant Garcia and his men arrived. "Have this man explain those tools and the broken lock, Sergeant," he declared. Then he was up on a wagon, up on the roof, down onto Tornado's saddle, and off into the night.

Pounding away from the pueblo, he knew the lancers would give chase. With luck he would be several miles away before they managed to ride out of the _pueblo_. But tonight Zorro's luck had come up short. The sudden shift in Tornado's gait told Zorro that his mount had picked up a stone under one of his shoes. Riding the stallion any distance in that condition could lame him for life. The cave was too far away, so Zorro knew he would have to quickly find himself a temporary mount and send Tornado back alone. He reined in at the top of a small hill and took his bearings. Below him and to his right sat the buildings of _Rancho_ Flores. It was the only possible place to" borrow" a horse. He eased Tornado into a canter and headed down the slope.

"It's late, Maggie. I'm going to bed," called Colonel Sheraton. "Tomorrow I'm looking over the new stock with Miguel so I'll be up early."

"I'll be up in a bit," she replied. "I'm going out to the barn to check on Daisy." The Colonel had purchased working stock for the ranch some two months ago, and it turned out that one of the mares was pregnant. She would be foaling in perhaps three weeks. Maggie frequently checked on her in the evening, so she lighted a lantern in the kitchen and headed over to the barn. "How are you, girl?" she asked, approaching the stall where the mare was quietly munching oats. Hanging the lantern on a nearby peg, Maggie looked over Daisy's bulging belly then stroked her velvety nose. "I'll bring you a carrot tomorrow," she promised, and Daisy whickered in response Finding nothing amiss, Maggie stroked the horse's smooth neck for a bit, then retrieved the lantern and turned back to the barn doors.

Once Zorro judged that he was within earshot of the _rancho's_ buildings, he dismounted. He quietly walked Tornado up to the barn, unsaddled him, and removed the bridle. Relieved of the weight of rider and saddle, it was safe enough for the horse to make his way back to the cave without major damage to his hoof. "Home, Tornado!" half-whispered the masked man, giving his mount a firm slap on the rump. The stallion cantered off into the night. Zorro scanned the _hacienda_ and the yard. Everything was still — no sound and no movement. Picking up the bridle and slinging the saddle over his shoulder, he moved stealthily to the barn door, eased it open, and slipped in. He turned, and found himself face to face with a very surprised Maggie Emerson.

"Zorro!" she cried. Then, noticing the saddle: "Your horse — what happened?"

"A dozen lancers are close behind me," he told her. "My horse has gone lame. I have need of one of yours, if you are willing."

"Of course. Take Thunderhead if you like."

"No _Señora_ , that would be too obvious. Everyone knows your horse. Another one, the swiftest you can spare?" She began leading him to the stall of a very fine sorrel when they both heard the sound of horses approaching.

She looked at the masked man in alarm. "We'll never get him saddled in time. You can't fight a dozen of them at once. You must hide here." Both of them scanned the barn. The stalls were too open, as was the largely empty loft. The small tool room would be one of the first places to be searched. Suddenly her eye fell on the four-dozen sacks of feed stacked pyramid-style around one of the pillars that held up the loft and the roof. They had arrived yesterday and were to be moved up to the loft tomorrow. "There!" she pointed. Tuck yourself in behind the sacks and be still!"

 _"Señora,_ surely they will search there," he argued as the sound of approaching horses grew louder.

"I'll make sure they don't. Now help me with your gear." She took the bridle and hung it on one of the wall pegs amid several other bridles. One among many, it would never be noticed. The saddle they slung over the side of one of the stalls, between two other saddles. It, too, would not attract attention.

The troop of soldiers was now entering the yard. "There is nowhere else. GO!" she whispered loudly. Zorro reluctantly hid himself in the space, but kept his back to the sacks and his drawn sword in front of him. Maggie opened the barn door and walked out to meet the lancers. Tonight they were led by _Capitán_ Monastario himself.

" _Comandante_ , what brings you out this time of night?" she asked, trying to sound surprised but relaxed.

"I might ask you the same question, _Señora._ Surely you feed your stock earlier than this."

"Of course we do. But one of our mares is pregnant and close to foaling, so I like to check on her before I retire."

"Indeed," he replied, sounding skeptical. "We have been following the outlaw Zorro. Tracks indicate he has come this way. Have you seen or heard a rider recently?"

"No, _Comandante_ , I've heard nothing. _That's the truth_ , she thought. _I never heard him coming into the barn_. It's been very quiet all evening.

"I do not wish to doubt your word, _Señora_ , but I must insist that we search your barn. As a formality, of course," replied Monastario, trying to sound apologetic and failing.

"Very well. And I'll accompany you — as a formality, of course," she replied with a smile. The lancers dismounted and Maggie and her lantern led the way back into the darkness of the barn. She went immediately to Daisy's stall and turned to the _Capitán_ who was close behind her. "Here is our mare. As you can see, she's well along." The _Comandante_ observed the animal in silence. Daisy picked up her ears at the noise the soldiers were making. There was a thump a and a muffled cry of "Babosos!" as Sergeant Garcia bounced off of two lancers in the dark. Maggie turned to the nearest soldier. "If you look in the tool room over there," she pointed, "I think you'll find at least one lantern." The man disappeared into the gloom and returned a few moments later with not one but two lanterns.

"Here you are, _Señora_ ," he said, holding them out to her. Maggie walked over to the middle of the barn, where there was minimal straw on the floor. She lit both lanterns from her own, giving each one to a nearby lancer. Then she climbed up to the second tier of the pyramid of sacks and held out her own lantern. At this higher level it cast light over the entire center of the barn. Zorro, tucked behind the sacks, sword at the ready, held his breath.

"Look where you will," she announced.

 _Comandante_ Monastario watched his men search the barn, and he could not fault their efforts. Each stall was examined. All piles of hay were deeply prodded with a pitchfork. Two men made the rounds of the loft twice. They found nothing. Maggie, who by now had sat back on the upper tiers of the grain pyramid and spread out her skirts, inquired: "Are you satisfied?" His reply was a curt, disappointed nod. As they left the barn, she asked, "Do you wish to search the house? I'm sure my father won't mind being pulled out of bed in the middle of the night for — "

"That will not be necessary, _Señora_. Even if Zorro was hidden in your _hacienda_ , we have wasted enough time here that he is surely long gone. Garcia! Mount up your men." The soldiers returned to their horses. _Capitán_ Monastario lingered with her for a moment. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said, bowing slightly.

"Perhaps you will catch Zorro next time." She hoped she sounded sincere. She realized that making an enemy of this man would be dangerous.

"Sooner or later, he will make a mistake, and then I will have him in my grasp," he declared, raising a clenched fist. "Then I will hang him in the plaza for all the world to see," he said, his eyes shining with cold fury. He mounted his horse and led his men away.

Maggie waited a full five minutes after the sound of hoofbeats had died away, then she went back inside the barn. "Zorro?" she called softly. " _Señor_ Zorro? They're gone."

He emerged silently from behind one of the roof pillars. "I am in great debt to you , _Señora_ ," he said.

"No more than I am to you for bringing me home after my fall," she replied quietly. "Now let's get you out of here." Maggie led out a fine sorrel, and together they saddled it.

"Again, I thank you _Señora_." He began to place his foot in the stirrup.

"Wait!" she said. He stopped and looked at her. She took a deep breath. "Won't you tell me who you are? I feel that I somehow know you. Perhaps I could help you again as I did tonight. You are so very familiar. Please, tell me your name...I swear will guard your secret with my life." As she spoke her right hand was rising slowly, very slowly towards his face...and his mask. In that moment he was tempted — oh, so tempted. Here was an intelligent woman...a capable woman...whom he could surely trust. She held the promise of things he never thought possible for himself: marriage...a family...something far closer to a normal life. All these desirable things, if only he were willing to pay the price of his identity. And her hand drew still closer to the mask.

"No." It was almost a whisper. His left hand curled around her fingertips as he gently pushed her hand it away. "No," he repeated. It is too great a burden." And then, suddenly, without planning to, without even thinking, he kissed her. At first it startled her, then she yielded to him, and she was warm and soft in his arms. Finally they parted, each still gazing at the other for a long moment. She thought she saw regret in his eyes. " _Señora_ , I must go. I will arrange to have the horse found wandering on your land tomorrow."

Maggie was almost breathless. She realized she was trembling. She had believed that she would never experience such feelings again, yet in a brief moment this man had set her heart on fire. She was also speechless. As she watched him mount and turn the sorrel into the night, she wondered, _What is the Spanish word for 'heart'?_

Heading for the cave at last, he upbraided himself. _Why did you do it? There is no future with her for Zorro. There can never be a future with anyone for Zorro, no matter how much you would long for one._


	14. Discovery

**Chapter 14: Discovery**

Thunderhead had become seriously restless. Still busy with settling in to the _rancho_ , Maggie had neglected him for a week, so today she had vowed to give him a good long run in the hills. She initially followed the routes she and Diego had ridden often, but since both horse and rider were feeling adventurous she turned the grey stallion toward a range of hills she had never ridden before. Maggie was half way up a slope that led down in to a box canyon when a sudden dimming of the daylight and a brisk cold breeze caused her to look up and back the way she had come. A great mass of black clouds was creeping over the summit behind her, and in that moment she thought she heard a distant rumble of thunder.

"Oh no, not again," she said to her mount, remembering what had happened the last time she was caught out in the rain. Maggie began scanning all around her for some semblance of shelter. The landscape was far too open — rocky land and sparse brush — to provide anything like protection from the coming storm. Then, behind her and another third of the way up the hill, she saw what appeared to be a great slash in the mountain. It looked like the mouth of a cave but at this distance she couldn't be sure, so she turned Thunderhead and allowed him to pick his way slowly up the steeper slope.

When she reached the slash itself, she found that it was larger than it had appeared from below. It was indeed the opening into a good-sized cave that ran back some distance into the mountain's interior. It narrowed as it went but the first thirty feet or so provided more than enough room for her and her horse to escape the bad weather. Just as she dismounted and led the stallion into the cave, thunder clapped and the heavers opened and a wall of water poured out of the sky. After ten minutes or so the storm's fury passed, but the rain still continued, steady and hard.

Maggie rubbed Thunderhead's nose: "I think we're going to be here for a while, so why don't we both relax?" She unsaddled him but left him bridled. He made his way over to a spot on the floor where water ran down the cave wall and formed a small pool at the base. He lapped at the water then shook his head. Maggie tossed the saddle blanket to the ground, sat, and leaned back against the cave wall. The stone retained the heat of the day. Its warmth and the sound of the rain began to sooth her.

As Maggie watched the curtain of falling water the memory of Zorro's kiss drifted into her thoughts. It was a beautiful memory, but one without hope. She could not shake the feeling that he was someone she knew, or at least had met. Yet he had made it clear enough that he must remain alone in his work, a ghost, a mystery to everyone around him. There was no point in dwelling on his identity. She would never discover it. Nor would she know when — or even if — she would see him again.

She gazed out through the cave entrance and realized that the rain was abating but still too heavy for her to leave. Now her thoughts turned to Diego and his guitar. She wished with all her heart that they had not been interrupted, that the servant had been on some other errand, that the noise had not startled them both. She felt he would have kissed her, but she could never be certain. And since she was now living at _Rancho_ Flores she wouldn't see him as often. _Perhaps that's a good thing_ , she thought. _If he visits infrequently, or not at all, then it was just a whim of the moment, best forgotten_. But she would have liked to have known for sure. As busy as she had been with moving in, she had given up their morning rides together and she realized she missed them. She leaned her head back against the warm stone. Was nothing ever going to be easy here in California?

The next time Maggie looked out of the cave, the rain had stopped. She sighed and looked over at Thunderhead. "Time to be on our way, fella." She rose, picked up the blanket, and saddled the stallion. She was standing at the cave mouth, looking down the slope and planning her way home, when a movement below caught her eye. A large outcropping anchored a wall of cascading greenery. The leaves were moving and something appeared to be emerging from among the vines. She cautiously stepped back a little into the shadows of the cave. Something was definitely down there, something large. _Puma?_ _No, pumas are tan. This is definitely black and much bigger than a puma_. In a few moments a large black bulk pulled free of the vines and resolved itself into — Zorro! He allowed his mount to pick his way out of the rocky ground, then he set the horse into a canter and headed toward the _pueblo_.

She froze. For a moment she could not believe what she knew she was seeing. She watched horse and rider disappear into the distance, then she looked down at the wall of vines. _Do I really want to know this? Surely it would be best if I just returned home and forgot I saw anything._ But the lure was too strong. She was desperate to know who he was, and this seemed to be a heaven-sent opportunity to find out. She carefully led Thunderhead down to the base of the slope and tethered him to a bush. Then she walked up to the green wall and began reaching into the vines. Twice her hand encountered rock directly behind the leaves. The third time, her arm went in all the way to her elbow. Parting the vines, she saw an opening and felt a breath of cool air. If the mountain could create one cave, it could surely create another.

Walking slowly so she could adjust to the dimness, Maggie made her way into the opening, her heart now pounding. About twenty paces inside the passage led to a cavern that was larger than the one in which she had sheltered. She saw a makeshift corral, a feed bin, a water trough, a small table. A lantern hung on a peg fitted into a gap between stones. At the far end, it appeared the cave narrowed down to a tunnel that disappeared deeper into the mountain. She looked around, half elated, half disappointed. This told her nothing about Zorro's identity. There wasn't a thing she could tie to anyone specific. And she wasn't about to explore the tunnel alone and unarmed. What she had already done was risky enough!

She was starting back out toward the entrance when she heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps coming from the tunnel. Maggie considered running back to the entrance and riding off, but feared the noise would give her away. On her right she saw a large cleft in the rocks. She took off her hat and pressed herself into the space. If she leaned her head out very slightly she would be able to see back into the cavern but remain hidden among the rock and the shadows.

A small figure carrying a dim candle emerged from the tunnel. The figure set something down on the table, and then took the lantern from the peg and lighted it. When the lantern was replaced, its light fell full on the face of —Bernardo, Diego's manservant!

A shock ran through her entire body. A dozen thoughts came crowding into her mind at once. The eyes, hazel eyes flecked with gold! The strength in his arms and shoulders! The athletic way he moved, the way he sat a horse! The concern both of them seemed to show for her welfare. The same! Diego and Zorro the same! All of it the same for both of them! And _Duende_! Of course Zorro would know the mare's name — she was one of his own horses. And at last she remembered the phrase that kept intruding into her memory, that elusive phrase "gentle curiosity." Diego had said it to her at the reception to avoid explaining something about Zorro. Zorro had uttered those same words in that same voice when she pressed him about his coming and going like a ghost.

It took all of her composure to remain stock still. Maggie had no idea what either she or Bernardo would do if she was discovered, and she didn't want to find out. Bernardo filled the feed bin with grain from a sack and checked the water trough. Still oblivious to her presence, he picked up a pitchfork and tossed some fresh hay into the corral. Then he took a last look around the cavern before returning to the tunnel.

She remained motionless among the rocks until she heard his footsteps dissolve into silence. Then she waited still longer to make sure he wasn't coming back for something forgotten. It was the longest ten minutes of her life. Finally she felt safe enough to leave the cave.

Once more in the saddle and heading home, she found herself in turmoil. She had thought discovering Zorro's identity would fill her with elation. Clearly in this she was very very wrong. Now she understood the full meaning of the words that the masked outlaw had spoken in the barn. "It is too great a burden," he had said. Would she ever be able to face Diego again without showing that she knew his secret? Would she ever be able to ride with him and engage in their usual banter without seeing him as Zorro instead of Diego? Could she keep silent when Don Alejandro made one of his critical remarks about his son's lack of spirit and bravery? God forbid she should be anywhere near the Comandante if he and Diego were speaking to each other, or if the subject of Zorro came up. She would be in terror that her face would somehow give her knowledge away.

Her father was watching for her as she rode back into the yard at _Rancho_ Flores. "Maggie, are you all right?"

"Yes, Papa, I'm fine," she answered, a slight trace if irritation in her voice. "I do know enough to get out of the rain."

The Colonel looked at his daughter, eyebrows raised. "Well, you didn't exactly manage it the last time we had a bad storm. I was worried about you."

"I suppose I can't blame you for worrying," she replied almost curtly. "But Thunderhead has had his run. With no jumps. And I need to change." She passed the reins to a stable hand and headed toward the _hacienda_. Her father watched her, puzzled by her tone and wondering what had happed out there in the hills.

As Maggie mounted the steps to her room, she realized that she had made a wish and she had gotten her wish. Now more than anything she wanted to wish her newfound knowledge away.


	15. Confusion

**Chapter 15: Confusion**

"I asked,' Why are you staring out of that window?' '' said Don Alejandro in an elevated voice. "And I asked you for the third time."

"I am sorry, Father," replied his son. "I was just thinking...actually I have no idea what I was thinking about..." his voice trailed off.

"What is the matter with you, Diego? You've been acting like a sleepwalker for the past week."

"Truly I do not know." _A not so small lie_ _but it cannot be helped_ , he thought. It's just that now that Colonel Sheraton and _Señora_ Emerson have moved to _Rancho_ Flores it seems... rather dull here without them." Don Alejandro could not really argue with that. The presence of someone close to his own age, experienced in the world, a good horseman, and an excellent chess player as well had been a rare treat for the old _hidalgo_. Yes, he had many friends his age among his fellow landowners, but they all lived at a distance and visits had to be arranged. With the Colonel in residence as a guest, chess or riding or a game of _monte_ could occur any time the two of them felt like it.

"Very well," his father said. "Today is market day. Go ride into the _pueblo_ and find out if there is any more news of the supply ship that is due in Santa Barbara this month. At least your horse will get some exercise even if all you do is sit on it and daydream."

"As you wish," Diego replied, once again sighing inwardly at the displeasure in his father's voice.

As Don Diego and Bernardo wound their way toward the _pueblo_ , Bernardo thought that his _patròn_ was unusually quiet. Bernardo reached over and nudged his master, then traced a question mark in the air and brought his finger to his pursed lips.

"You want to know why I am so quiet?". The _muzo_ nodded. "I'm just thinking," Diego replied, dismissively.

Bernardo traced a "Z" and raised his eyebrows. "Yes, it does have to do with Zorro. A little."

With two hands Bernardo traced a curvy shape in the air. "No, it has nothing to do with a woman." The servant tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, a perfect expression of skepticism.

Annoyed by the fact that Bernardo could read him so well, Diego replied, "All right, yes, if you must know. It does have to do with a woman. And we will speak no more about it. Or her." The _muzo_ shook his head and the remainder of the trip proceeded in silence.

 _Perhaps I should have listened to Bernardo when he tried to warn me that first time I brought her flowers as Zorro_ , thought Diego. _Now it seems that I am two men in love with the same woman, and I have no idea what to do next._

Market day was in full swing when the two of them rode into the plaza and tied their mounts in front of the inn. Diego sought out the shady _taberna_ patio. Bernardo drifted off to lean against the corner of the inn and pick up what information he could. Don Diego ordered a bottle of Madera, and when the innkeeper brought it our Diego asked, "Has there been any news of the supply ship?"

"I am afraid not, Don Diego," the man replied, setting down the bottle and a glass. "My brother sent me word two days ago that nothing has been sighted yet. We must be patient, I'm afraid."

"I hope it comes soon. My father is most concerned."

" _Sí_ , Don Diego, there is much on the ship that we will soon be in need of. And once the weather turns the long voyage around _Tierra del Fuego_ will not be possible until spring."

Staring idly into the crowd, he saw Maggie across the plaza, talking to a seller of oranges and lemons. He left coins for the wine and started into the throng. She was examine the fruit so he came up to her from behind. He leaned forward and said, " _Buenos días_ , _Señora_ " in his most pleasant voice. She turned, saw him, and her reaction was not at all what he had expected. Her face seemed to him a mixture of surprise and panic. She actually stepped back two paces. "Is something wrong?" he quickly inquired, concerned. She seemed to recover then.

"Oh — uh — no, Don Diego. You just startled me, that's all." Her voice was calm enough but her face became a mask that he could not read.

"I am sorry for that, truly. I just thought, I might accompany you on your errands around the plaza. _Con_ _permiso,_ of course." He reached for her hand but suddenly both of her hands were tightly clasping the handle of basket she was carrying.

"I don't think so, not today. In fact, I must be on my way back home."

He looked at the two dozen oranges set out for her. "But you have not made your purchase!"

"No matter. I'll get them another time," she declared as she started to walk away.

He followed her through the crowd, and before she had reached her wagon he stepped in front of her, blocking her path. He brought his face close and spoke in a very low voice: " _Señora_ , I do not understand. I beg you, if I have given you offense in any way, please, tell me." Her expression shifted slightly. Fear was replaced by — regret? But still he could not read it. "The guitar?" he ventured, remembering the day he had come so close to kissing her. "If that is what has upset you I offer you my most profound apologies," he began.

At that moment her expression softened, and he thought he detected the beginnings of a smile. "Oh no, not the guitar, never that..." she said softly.

"Then I beg you to tell me —"

But she cut him off. "Please, Don Diego, I have to be getting back." And with that she left him standing alone in the middle of the plaza, wondering what had gone wrong between them.


	16. Capture

**Chapter 16: Capture**

" _Entrad_!" called out _Capitán_ Monastario, looking up from his daily paperwork as a knock sounded on his door.

Sergeant Garcia ambled his way into the room and saluted his superior officer. "The new lancers from San Diego are awaiting your inspection, _mi comandante_ ," the portly sergeant proclaimed.

"I will be out in a few moments, Garcia. Dismissed!" The sergeant saluted again and beat a hasty retreat. In the two years since Enrique Monastario's arrival The Pueblo de los Angeles had grown significantly. Four months ago he had requested additional lancers from Monterey. Now sixteen soldiers had arrived to augment the garrison, and the _comandante_ was about to get his first look at them.

The _Capitán_ rose from his desk and strode out to the _cuartel_ yard where sixteen men, each standing at attention in full uniform and carrying a weapon, awaited him. Monastario barked the same two commands to each of them: "Name!" and "Weapon!" In response, each man declared his name in a loud voice and then handed over his weapon, which the _comandante_ proceeded to inspect. For some reason the twelfth man in line carried a weapon that did not match those of the other lancers, and while Garcia was concerned that the _comandante_ would punish the lancer for this, the _comandante_ appeared not to notice.

Once he had handed the sixteenth musket back to its owner, Monastario retraced his steps and stood in front of the twelfth soldier. "Alvarez, is it?"

" _Sí, comandante_."

"They tell me you are a marksman, Alvarez. Is this true?"

" _Sí, comandante_."

"And is this why your weapon is different?"

" _Sí, comandante_. It is a rifle, not a musket"

"Well then, come with me." The _Capitán_ led the lancer out into the plaza and looked around. He pointed to a large crow sitting on a branch at a distance clearly beyond musket range. "Shoot the bird. If it flies off, shoot the branch." The soldier loaded his weapon and took aim. A loud crack erupted from the rifle, and far down the road the crow tumbled to the ground. "Welcome to Los Angeles, Alvarez," declared Monastario with a cold smile. "I'm sure we'll have much work for you."

 _Licenciado_ Piña and the _comandante_ were closeted in the latter's office. "I suppose," Monastario began, "that as _licenciado_ you have had occasion to deal with some very unsavory men?"

"That may have happened," replied his guest, cautiously.

"And is it too much to hope that perhaps some of these unsavory men owe you a favor or two?"

"That also may have happened."

"That is good, because it seems I have need for some unsavory men," continued the _Capitán._ "El Zorro has largely cleared this area of _banditos_ and made El Camino Real safe for travelers. So I have need of some new _banditos_ to draw the outlaw out. Your frien — er — these _banditos_ would be able to keep whatever they happened to find in the course of their — uh — 'work', provided no one is seriously injured or killed. And it would be up to you to decided what your share of the — uh — let us say 'profits' would be. Of course I would arrange to have the routine patrols elsewhere whenever these unsavory men struck."

"I think perhaps, just perhaps, I may be able to help you," said Piña, smiling like a snake.

Thus it was that some two weeks later Zorro found himself watching a particular stretch of El Camino Real for the fourth evening in a row. This stretch, quiet and safe for so long, had suddenly become the site of no fewer than three robberies in the past ten days. He did not understand why such violence had returned to the area, but he knew he had to put a stop to it.

Tornado picked up his ears at the sound of an approaching carriage. His rider scanned the road below, but other than the carriage itself El Camino Real remained clear in both directions. But just as the carriage reached a place where the road narrowed slightly, five masked men, pistols drawn, emerged from a small grove of trees. Two blocked the roadway with their horses and the remaining three came up to carriage from behind. The driver pulled up the horses and raised his hands. One of the men rode up to the carriage window. "Your valuables, _señores_ , and no harm will come to you," he snarled, holding out a small sack.

Zorro kicked his mount into a canter and rode toward the robbery. Seeing him coming, all five _banditos_ took off but not before one of them pulled out a pistol and fired it into the air. Zorro wondered why a man would waste powder firing at nothing. A moment later he had his answer. From a larger grove of trees farther down the road a dozen lancers came riding. _This was a trap_ , _and the robberies were the bait_ , the masked man thought. _I must be getting slow, I did not see it._ He whirled Tornado around and took off in the opposite direction. He was not worried, he knew there was not a mount in the garrison that could keep up with his stallion. Tornado galloped up a rise and then picked up speed as he sped down the other side into the open flat land.

But at the top of the rise, instead of pursuing, the _Comandante_ called his men to a halt. " Alvarez, your rifle," he shouted. The lancer trotted up, pulled his rifle out of its saddle scabbard, and loaded it. The marksman was not the least bit concerned about the ever-increasing distance between him and his target. Pausing for just a moment to gauge any wind, he took careful aim then pulled the trigger. A loud "crack" split the evening air.

A third of the way across the valley Zorro gasped and grimaced as he felt the burning pain of the ball passing through his side. He had been shot! Never had he anticipated such a thing at this distance! There was pain in his side and his shirt was wet. He felt the wound and there was blood on his glove. "Home, Tornado!" he urged. His life depended on his being able to reach the cave quickly, very quickly. Thirty yards farther on he began to feel cold, then light-headed. He realized he was going into shock. He bent low over the galloping stallion's neck and grasped the black mane with both hands. "Home, Tornado, home!" he urged again. But his senses were failing him. He could hardly stay upright and the world began to spin. Finally consciousness left him and he tumbled from his mount into the bushes at the roadside.

A quarter mile behind, _Capitan_ Monastario saw him fall and experienced an elation such as he had never experienced before! His horse could not cross the distance fast enough. When he came to the fallen outlaw he pulled his mount up so short the animal almost lost its balance and toppled. The _Comandante_ leaped from the saddle and ran to the dark form on the ground. He had waited for this moment for over two years. Turning the outlaw onto his back, he ripped off the mask. "Diego De la Vega! I knew it!" he shouted. "Sergeant Garcia!" he bellowed. The sergeant had dismounted and was now standing beside his commanding officer, open-mouthed.

"But...but this cannot be!" he stuttered. "This is Don Diego. He is not Zorro. He cannot be Zorro. He could never be —"

"Bind his hands and feet and throw him over a horse," barked the _Comandante_. "We will see how this arrogant outlaw likes finding himself in a cell in the _cuartel_."

"But...but he is bleeding, _Comandante_. We must bind up the wound or he could die!" pleaded Garcia.

This thought gave the _Comandante_ pause. "Very well, Sergeant, bandage the wound. I want him to live long enough to hang in the plaza like the despicable outlaw he is."

Medical supplies were in short supply, so several of the lancers sliced strips from their shirts and a makeshift dressing was applied. But Zorro was still bound hand and foot and slung over the back of one of the horses for the journey back to the cuartel, where, still unconscious, he was placed in a cell.


	17. Reaction

**Chapter 17: Reaction**

 _Capitán_ Monastario found the morning to be delightful. He found it especially delightful to walk across the _cuartel_ yard to visit his newest prisoner, now being attended by Dr. Avila. "I trust you are sufficiently comfortable, _Señor_ Zorro," he said with a mocking smile. "But even if the accommodations are not up to your standards, I wouldn't worry. You won't be here for long." Diego, still weak and in pain, remained silent.

Dr. Eduardo Avila finished fastening the bandage and leaned toward his patient. "I am sorry, Diego, " he said in a low voice. "I will get word to your father." Diego nodded almost imperceptibly.

"You need not take too much care, Doctor," observed the _Comandante_ , smiling broadly. "He only needs to live long enough to hang."

The doctor took his leave, grim-faced and avoiding the _Capitán's_ stare. The _comandante_ stood and stared at Diego for a full minute, a cold, self-satisfied smile on his face. "Two years...you have mocked me for two years...and now you will pay, De la Vega. I will hang you in the plaza like the common outlaw that you are, disgracing your family and your name. I may even leave your sorry carcass to rot in the sun for a few days after you are dead. That should be enough to teach your proud old _bastardo_ of a father to fear me and to obey my laws."

"They are not your laws. Justice belongs to the King, not to you. And you cannot hang me without a trial," Diego replied, weakly.

"O can't I?" replied the soldier, raising one eyebrow. "I have had much discussion with Licenciado Piña and we will just see about that." He turned away from the cell and shouted, "Guard!" A nearby soldier snapped to attention. "See to it that this prisoner is fed only once each day, and that his water jug is refreshed only once."

" _Sí mi comandante_ ," replied the man, unable to answer differently if he valued his own life.

There was much sympathy among the garrison for Don Diego. Also much willingness to trade an account of last night's adventures for a glass or two of wine at the _taberna_. Thus it was that all morning residents and visitors to the pueblo learned of Zorro's capture and identity. Residents shook their heads in disbelief. They knew Don Diego as a genial if perhaps frivolous young man who frequented the _pueblo,_ supported its tradesmen, and was never shy about buying wine for Sergeant Garcia. Visitors quickly forgot their business and spurred their horses back to their own _ranchos_ to inform their _patròns_ of what had happened.

Perhaps the most alarmed of these was Benito, Don Alejandro's head _vaquero_. Arriving back at the De la Vega _hacienda_ , he found the elder don pacing the _sala_ and wondering why Diego was nowhere to be found.

" _Patròn_! _Patròn_!" Benito cried, bursting into the room. By the look on his _vaquero's_ face Don Alejandro knew something was very, very wrong. "Zorro has been taken! And he is...he is...he is Don Diego!"

" My son, Zorro? My son?"

"There is worse, _Patròn_. He has been shot!"

Stunned, the old _hidalgo_ found the nearest chair and sat down heavily. "Shot? Are you sure? How do you know this?"

"Doctor Avila saw me in the plaza and told me. He had been called to the _cuartel_ to attend to the wound."

"I must ride for the _pueblo_ immediately! I must see my son! Benito, have my horse saddled!"

"You cannot, _Patròn_. The _cuartel_ gates are closed and guarded by six lancers with muskets. It is said that no one will be permitted to see Don Diego."

"Outrage!" shouted the don. "The _comandante_ cannot do such a thing! In that case, saddle my horse and load my pistols!" By this time a number of servants had gathered in the _sala_ and were listening to the news. Arturo came forward.

" _Por favor_ , Don Alejandro, do not do this," pleaded the steward. "If you rise against the _comandante_ you are branded a traitor and your property is forfeit. And then what will happen to all of us? There must be another way." At this Alejandro De la Vega paused. His own father had built the _rancho_ from almost nothing, and proudly bequeathed the land and its fruits to his son. The _patròn_ looked at his servants. They had all served the family loyally for years. And the young women of the household — what might they be forced to do if _Capitán_ Monastario came to own the _hacienda_? As a man of _hidalgo_ blood, he had a sacred duty to protect his land and his people.

"Very well, Arturo," responded his patròn, "I will think on this. Perhaps with the other landowners..." With that the old don strode out of the room.

Upstairs, in the secret room, Bernardo buried his face in his Diego's jacket and wept.

Maggie was working up a cornbread batter in the kitchen with Concepciòn, their new cook, when her father strode in with their head _vaquero_ at his heels, a serious look on both men's faces. "Maggie, Miguel has brought disturbing news from the _pueblo_."

"What, the _Capitán_ fell off his horse and broke a leg and they want to shoot him? — the _capitán_ , not the horse." she joked, stirring up a storm.

"No," said her father, in a dark tone. "Maggie — Maggie, look at me." She stopped stirring. "They say in the _pueblo_ that Zorro has been captured. And — and that he is Don Diego," her father declared in a gentle tone.

Her bowl crashed to the floor and sent batter everywhere."No! NO!'' she cried in horror. "He can't be taken!"

Her father put his arms gently around her. "Don Diego has been a good friends to us, and I know you're fond of him. I'm going to ride over to the De la Vega _hacienda_ and see what sense we can make of this."

She started pulling off her apron. "I'll go with you," she declared.

"No," the Colonel replied. I want you to stay here. There may be other landowners there. They are all very proud men and they won't welcome a woman. Not," he added hastily, "that you wouldn't have good ideas about what we could do — I know perfectly well that you would. I'd just prefer that you stay here, and I promise I'll tell you everything that was discussed." In spite of her distress, she knew her father was right. Don Alejandro would be frantic and he would not relish the idea of a woman becoming involved in any rescue scheme. Especially her.

As she watched her father and Miguel ride away, she thought of her last meeting with Diego in the plaza. _If only he hadn't surprised me like that. I should have been better prepared to see him. I should have been able to make normal conversation._ Now she wondered if she would ever speak to him again.

Over a brandy in his quarters, _Capitán_ Monastario was gloating over the upcoming fate of El Zorro. Hanging the masked man would be one of the great moments of the _Comandante's_ military career, worthy of notice by the Governor himself. But the more he thought about everything that had happened over the past two years, the more dissatisfied he became. Over a second brandy the _Capitán_ began to count the insults he had suffered. Had not the outlaw had the audacity to raise his own flag over the _cuartel_? Had not the outlaw arranged to have his personal coach ruined with the mud from the tar pits? Had the accursed masked man not carved a "Z" in the jacket of his best uniform? Had not the man's meddling old father objected and obstructed many of his best plans? After all this, the _Comandante_ felt that hanging was too quick and too simple a fate for Diego De la Vega, El Zorro. How would it be possible, he wondered, to further humiliate and disgrace both the son and the father.

Then his eye fell on the coiled whip hanging on a peg on the wall, and he went to his desk and began to write an order. In a few minutes he shouted for Sergeant Garcia.

"Sí, _Comandante_?" asked the sergeant as he saluted.

"Give this to the clerk to be made into a _notificaciòn_ and have it posted on the _cuartel_ gates first thing in the morning," he declared, handing Garcia the paper.

"Sí, _Comandante_ ," replied Garcia, saluting again. He turned to leave, glancing at the written order as he did so. Suddenly the sergeant turned back to his _Capitán_. " _Comandante_ , no! This is Don Diego! You cannot do this!"

Livid, Monastario slammed down his fist and rose from his desk. "Do you, a sergeant, dare to tell your commanding officer what he can or cannot do?! Would you prefer to be private Garcia again?"

"Uh, no, _Comandante_." Shocked and horrified, Sergeant Garcia left the office and set off to find the garrison's clerk who would copy out the order in large writing. The order read:

Prisoner De La Vega  
also known as the outlaw "El Zorro"  
will receive thirty lashes in the plaza today at 3pm..

Enrique Monastario  
Comandante, Pueblo de Los Angeles


	18. Punishment

**Chapter 18: Punishment**

Diego lay on the thin straw mat on the sleeping shelf of his cell. He felt cold in spite of the blanket Sergeant Garcia had sneaked through the bars. His friend had also told him what awaited him the following afternoon.

"I am sorry, Don Diego. I could not convince the _Comandante_ it was wrong..." Garcia's voice trailed off.

"No matter," his friend replied. "I would not want you or anyone else to suffer in any way because of me." He paused a moment, " Sergeant, could you get a message to my father? If you can, tell him it is my wish that he not interfere. That I understand what I must endure, but that I would rather endure it than have harm come to him on my account. If he brings men to the plaza tomorrow in an attempt to rescue me the _Comandante_ will shoot him down like a dog, and I could not bear that."

"I understand, Don Diego. And I will try to get word to Don Alejandro. But I cannot promise. Now I must continue my rounds before the _Comandante_ misses me." He headed across the _cuartel_ yard to continue his patrol.

In spite of his great weariness sleep would not come, so hours later Diego found himself staring into the darkness beyond the cell bars. He had always known that capture was possible, he just never truly believed it would happen. The consequences would be grave, and they were his and his alone to bear, and that was as it should be. Then he thought about his father. _Was Sergeant Garcia successful?_ _Does my father know?_ _Is he proud of what I have done or is he angry because I never told him my secret?_ Bearing up under his father's constant disappointment in him had been hard enough. Now, in being subjected to a public flogging, he was bringing a great disgrace on his family name. _Will he ever be able to forgive me for bringing about this dishonor?_ Still, there was one thing he could do tomorrow. He swore to himself that he would not give the _Comandante_ the satisfaction of crying out in pain or asking for mercy. No matter what, he would honor his _hidalgo_ blood and bear all in silence.

Sergeant Garcia and a detachment of six lancers led him out into the bright sun of the plaza. The mixture that Dr. Avila had given him for the pain of his wound had worn off. Walking upright was difficult but he managed to walk steadily. The whipping post was much the same as it had been the day he rescued _Señor_ Yorba's _vaquero_. Only today there would be no Zorro to charge into the plaza and free him.

It was unnaturally quiet and he soon realized why. _Capitán_ Monastario had turned out the entire garrison. They were formed in a semi-circle around the post, facing the crowd, muskets at the ready. Anyone who so much as sneezed could end up being shot. The _Capitán_ himself, in full dress uniform for the occasion, was already on hand to direct the proceedings.

Once Diego was tied to the post, Monastario barked: "Sergeant, read out the charges." Garcia read out the text of the _notificaciòn_ and a long litany of offenses that the _Comandante_ had added later. "Sergeant, administer thirty lashes." Garcia turned to the lancer who was carrying the whip. Looking at his friend who had shared so many stories and bought so many glasses of wine, he hesitated. There was a long moment of silence. The Comandante's eyes narrowed. "Garcia!" he screamed.

"Thirty lashes," shouted the sergeant in reply, wishing for all the world that he had had the courage to cut out his own tongue the night before.

The first lash was a streak of fire across his back. The second was worse... And the third... By the time the final lash fell Diego was leaning heavily on the post, drenched in his own sweat. His breath was coming in great gulps, and he could feel blood running down his back. What had remained of his black shirt had been shredded, as was much of the bandage that held his wound dressing in place. But as he had promised himself, he had made no sound. Monastario had not had the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain. The Garcia addressed his commanding officer: "Thirty lashes, _mi_ _Comandante_."

"Yes," replied Monastario, in a very self-satisfied tone. He turned to Garcia, smiling. "Again, Sergeant."

"Again? But _Comandante_ you said thirty lashes and he has been given thirty lashes and —"

"I said again, Sergeant!"

Garcia was beside himself. He looked around the plaza, wondering if by some miracle he could make the earth open up and swallow him. Then he did the only thing he could do: "Thirty lashes!" he cried again.

Hearing this, Diego was near despair. He had kept silent for thirty strokes. He did not believe he could keep silent for thirty more. Worse, he knees were beginning to tremble. But like Garcia, he had no alternative. _Madre de Dios, help me._ He braced himself for more.

The corporal with the whip began again. One...two... But the third lash never came. As he raised the whip for the next stroke, he felt the handle jerked out of his hand. Turning and half-expecting to see Zorro — for Zorro did such things — the lancer instead beheld the pale-robed form of _Padre_ Vicente, who looked him directly in the face and said gently, "No more, my son. No more."

The _Capitán_ strode toward them, his face livid. "I order you to continue!" The corporal looked from _Padre_ Vicente to the his commanding officer and back to _Padre_ Vicente. It was a split-second decision. As much as the lancer feared the wrath of the _Comandante_ , he feared the wrath of God more. He beat a hasty retreat to the ranks.

"This is a military matter, _Padre_. You have no jurisdiction here!"

"The Church has jurisdiction over its children in all circumstances," replied the friar, speaking slowly and deliberately and beginning to coil the whip. "The good sergeant is correct. You ordered thirty lashes, which is your right as _comandante_. Thirty lashes have been given." The old priest fixed the _Comandante_ with a steely stare. "No more." A murmur arose from the crowd.

"Very well then, that whip is my property. I demand you return it to me!"

"Ah! I see," considered _Padre_ Vicente, still speaking deliberately and coiling up the whip. He nodded. "I suppose you are right. This _is_ your property and you are entitled to do what you like with your own property." At this he tossed the whip into the dust at the _Comandante's_ feet. "But this also means," he continued, "that I am entitled to do what I like with my property."

 _Padre_ Vicente stepped back and positioned himself squarely between Monastario and Diego, at the same time clasping and holding out the plain wooden cross he wore on his breast. "If you wish to further harm Don Diego, you will have to come through me. To come through me you will have to lay your hands on me. To lay hands on a man of God is sacrilege. Do you wish to commit sacrilege, my son?" The murmur of the crowd grew louder.

The _Capitán_ knew that his superiors might forgive him much if he could convince them that what he had done was for the sake of upholding the law and keeping order. But he also knew they would never forgive him for laying hands on a man of God. He could face a court martial for doing so. Furious, he knew he was beaten. "Take the prisoner and throw him back into his cell," he shouted. "And I mean throw."

Two of the six escort lancers cut Diego loose and half walked, half carried him away. Sergeant Garcia followed them and the remaining four lancers fell in behind their sergeant. Once they passed into the _cuartel_ yard, however, the rear lancers shifted so that they were beside the sergeant, two on each side. Thus they shielded Diego from view and Monastario could not see that while Garcia was bellowing, "You heard the _Comandante_ , throw him in!" they were laying Diego gently on the mat and offering him a wineskin. "We must go now, Don Diego. Try to — er — try to rest. I will see if I can bring Doctor Avila."

A weak "Gracias..." was the only reply Diego could manage.

Watching all of it at the edge of the crowd, Alejandro De la Vega had sat ramrod straight on his horse, trying to keep his alarm and his rage from showing on his face. A few yards away sat Colonel Sheraton on his mount. Very late yesterday afternoon a garrison soldier, dressed in civilian clothing, had arrived while Colonel Sheraton and two other landowners were still with Don Alejandro discussing possibilities. The man explained Diego's wish that no one attempt a rescue. When the lancer had gone Don Alejandro had two thoughts, which came to him again there in the plaza. First, that his son was right. Any rescue would have had to involve many men and be carefully planned, and even if there had been time for such a plan it was likely that some men would die in carrying it out. Second, he wondered how he could be so proud and so heartbroken at the same time.


	19. Sortie

**Chapter 19: Sortie**

 **A/N: Narcisco means "daffodil" in Spanish.**

Very early the next morning a group of riders set out from the _cuartel_ , one to each of the _ranchos_ in the area. Each carried a copy of a _notificaciòn_ to be delivered to the _rancho's_ owner. The same _notificaciòn_ had already been posted on the cuartel gates.

When Colonel Sheraton and Maggie came out of the _sala_ the lancer handed over the document, saluted, and left. As her father read the contents, his face darkened with an anger Maggie had rarely seen. "What's wrong?" she asked. He turned to his daughter, almost not knowing how to convey such bad news.

"Maggie," he said gently, "it says that Diego is to be hanged two days from today, at noon." Her face went white. "Then it says that beginning today, the Pueblo de la Reina de Los Angeles is under martial law. Anyone riding a horse on or near El Camino Real is to be shot on sight, no questions asked, and their property will be confiscated. Goods may be moved by mule or by ox cart, but no mounted horsemen. Roads will be heavily patrolled by armed lancers."

"What?!" was all she could reply.

" _Comandante_ Monastario is determined to have his revenge and hang Don Diego," her father explained. "Individually, none of the landowners has enough armed men to attack the heavily guarded _cuartel_ and set him free. With restrictions like this the _comandante_ is making sure that we can't get in touch with each other to devise a plan. It also means that travel out of the area is restricted. On a mule it would take someone almost a half-day to reach San Gabriel, which is an easy journey on horseback. No, I have to admit that the _comandante_ knows his strategy. But I hate to see it used for this."

She felt tears welling up in her eyes. "But there must be something we can do!"

"I'll give this some thought," said her father, putting his arm around her. "But I'm not making any promises."

Maggie spent the day in a daze. She couldn't believe this was happening. She kept expecting to wake up and find herself ready to go on a morning ride with Zorro — no, with Diego — no, with Zorro — no, with both of them? She was not thinking clearly and she knew it. She tried to keep herself busy with the everyday running of the _rancho_ , but it was difficult. Late in the afternoon her father came out to the kitchen garden.

"I can think of only one thing in our favor," said the Colonel. Yesterday at Don Alejandro's Don César mention that the Governor was just north of San Juan Capistrano visiting an old friend. That puts him within a day's ride on a fast horse. But that still doesn't solve the problem of getting out of Los Angeles without being shot on El Camino Real."

Maggie was suddenly struck by an almost impossible idea. She knew where to find a fast horse and she knew her way around the hills well enough that, if she were careful, she could get down to the road beyond the range of the lancer patrols. But how to get to the horse in the first place? Her mind began to race. She ran out to their stableyard, shouting to the first stable hand she saw: "Saddle _Narcisco_! And put two market baskets on her!" Running back into the _hacienda_ , her father grasped her firmly by both shoulders.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I know where to find a fast horse _outside_ of Los Angeles."

"Where? What horse?

"I'll explain later. Now come with me and tell me how to find this friend of the Governor's down at San Juan."

Bright and early the next morning the _Señora_ Margaret Emerson, clad in her best everyday dress, was plodding along El Camino Real on _Narcisco_ the pack mule, who was burdened with two large baskets full of what appeared to be sewing supplies. It was not long before she encountered a lancer patrol led by Sergeant Garcia, who greeted her with some concern.

" _Buenos dias, Señora Emerson_. Surely you have heard of the order concerning riding along El Camino Real?"

"Yes, of course Sergeant. Everyone has heard the of the order concerning riding along El Camino Real on a horse. But as you can see, I am riding a mule and a mule is most definitely not the same as a horse." The sergeant was somewhat nonplussed.

"Er, yes, it is true a mule is not the same as a horse, uh, but —"

"But what, Sergeant?"

"Er —" he began again, "but you are not in a cart."

"That's true, but I am moving goods, see!" she pointed to the baskets mounted behind her saddle.

"Er, what kind of goods? And where are you going with them?"

" _Señorita_ Teresa Ramirez and I have both decided we need some new things and we thought we would sew them together. I am taking my materials to the Ramirez _hacienda_ so that Luisa can fit us both at the same time. See for yourself." She again gestured toward the baskets.

Sergeant Garcia, not wanting to be remiss in his duties, dismounted and began to poke around in the baskets. One contained several bolts of silk fabric and a sewing box. The second contained a great bundle of lengths of lace and a large quantity of loose cotton cloth. He pulled up piece of plain cotton, then a second. The third piece, however, had small buttons and was trimmed in dainty lace. When he realized he was holding a woman's undergarment he dropped it as though it were on fire, much to the amusement of the rest of the patrol. Extremely red-faced, he remounted and said in an embarrassed tone, "You may proceed, _Señora."_ He and his men couldn't ride away from her fast enough.

A half-mile farther down the road Maggie turned the mule into the hills, hoping against hope she would remember how to get to the cave. _Narcisco_ was sure-footed but slow. With enough kicking and when the terrain allowed, Maggie could get the animal into a trot, but no faster. The pace seemed agonizingly slow until finally she came across the shoulder of a hill and saw below her the outcropping and the curtain of vines. She let _Narcisco_ pick her way down the slope, then she dismounted and led the somewhat reluctant mule through the vines and into the cave.

It was much as she remembered it, except that now the corral was occupied by the great black beast that carried Zorro through the night. She walked slowly up to the stallion. "Do you remember me, boy? You and your master carried me safely home one night," she said, reaching out to stroke the horse's nose. The stallion did not shy away, or pull back his ears. Maggie decided this was a good sign.

She began unpacking the baskets. Underneath the bolts of silk and the sewing box were a work shirt, her riding _pantalones_ and a pair of pistols — the same outfit she'd been wearing the day they arrived in Los Angeles. The cotton and lace hid extra ammunition, a knife, a bundle of food, and a second canteen. She changed clothes and then approached the stallion, bridle in hand. The entire plan hinged on Tornado allowing her to saddle and ride him. "Your master is in grave danger and you can save him," she said gently, raising the bridle. Tornado took a step back and shook his head. She stroked his neck for a few moments and tried again. This time he allowed Maggie to slip the bridle over his head and buckle it. Still working slowly and gently, she positioned the saddle blanket on the stallion's back, and then, holding her breath and offering a silent prayer to whoever was the patron saint of riders, she set the saddle on him. He stood still and accepted it, and after she cinched it up she breathed a prayer of thanks. She led him out of the corral and led _Narcisco_ in, checking that the mule would have sufficient food and water. "Thank you, girl," she whispered, softly kissing the mule's nose.

Now was the final test. Would Tornado allow her to ride him? She led him out to the center of the cave and carefully placed one foot in the stirrup. The horse remained calm. Then she was up and in the saddle. The stallion shifted his feet and shook his head, but did not balk or buck. She turned him towards the entrance and spared a moment for a last look at the cave. She wondered what Bernardo would make of the mule, the baskets, and the fabric and clothing she had left on the floor.

It was later than she had planned, but she still kept to the hills for the first thirty minutes or so. Only when she could see the buildings of Don Gregorio's _rancho_ below and far behind her did she descend to the road proper and kick Tornado into a gallop. It would be a long day and a long ride.

At about the same time _Comandante_ Monastario decided to talk a little walk around the _cuartel_. He sauntered up to Diego's cell, a sarcastic smile on his face. "Ah! _Buenos dias, Señor_ Zorro. I see that Doctor Avila has been again," he said, noticing the fresh bandage on Diego's wound. He also noticed that the bowl of thin stew — the only food he allowed his prisoner — remained untouched. "What, not fond of the cooking here? Well, I assure you the lack of a proper menu will not trouble you much longer. You see, tomorrow, at noon, I am going to hang you in the plaza for all the world to see."

At this Diego managed to push himself up into a sitting position and reply weakly, "The law entitles me to a trial."

"Yes, the law entitles ordinary criminals to a trial. But you, _Señor,_ are no ordinary criminal. _Licenciado_ Piñaadvises me that since you were taken after a declaration of martial law, you may be executed as a traitor, without trial. " This was a blatant lie but there was no way for Diego to know that and no one in the _pueblo_ who did know it would dare to contradict the _Comandante_. "But perhaps you may yet keep your life. If tomorrow on the way to the gallows you would ask forgiveness for your crimes I might decide to spare you. I might even be magnanimous and grant you a pardon, who knows?"

"Freeing innocent prisoners is not a crime. Nor is protecting the poor and the helpless. Your pardon would be worthless for I have no doubt that you would contrive to have me 'shot while escaping' as you have so many others."

"Ah, but you could spare your proud old dog of a father the pain of watching you die like a _peon_ , disgracing your family forever."

Diego shifted uncomfortably for the wound had bled in the night and was now beginning to throb. "My father is a man of honor. He will understand. I regret nothing."


	20. Advocate

**Chapter 20: Advocate**

 **A/N: Pablo Vicente de Solá was a real person. He was the Governor of Alta California from 1815 to 1822.**

Six trees. She needed to find six trees. According to Don César the turnoff from El Camino Real to the _hacienda_ of Don Alfonso Moreno was marked by six great oak trees, three on each side of the track. She hoped she would find it soon. She and Tornado were both running out of strength and, worse, she would soon be running out of daylight. They had rested several times along the way, at places where water and shade were available. She had allowed the horse to drink and graze, and she had eaten from the food bundle that Concepciòn had packed. But they had never rested for long, and now even Tornado's stamina was reaching its limit.

Finally! There, ahead on her left, a great mass of trees throwing long shadows. She pulled up and stared. Yes, this was it, this had to be the right place. The oaks were said to be planted by Don Alfonso's grandfather and were supposedly huge. And these trees were definitely huge. She leaned down and patted the stallion's sweaty neck. "Almost there, boy. Just a little farther. One more mile for your master." She kicked him into a canter and headed between the trees.

With the Governor visiting the _hacienda_ was surrounded by his own guard. At the sound of fast hoofbeats, the soldiers slid their muskets off of their shoulders and held them waist high, pointed at the approaching rider. An officer stepped forward: "Halt! Who are you and what is your business here?"

"I am _Señora_ Margaret Emerson from the Pueblo de Los Angeles. I must speak with the Governor on an urgent matter!"

"The Governor has said he does not wish to be disturbed this evening. You must come back tomorrow."

"You don't understand — tomorrow will be too late! A man's life is at stake!"

" _Señora_ , I am sorry but you must come back —"

She sensed that arguing further would be useless. Then she remembered how effectively Zorro had raised the alarm the night he brought her home after her fall. She pulled Tornado up into a rear, simultaneously drawing one of her pistols and firing it into the air. "Pablo de Solá, Governor of Alta California, I must speak with you!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. Over and over again she cried out, all the while pulling Tornado around in a tight circle. The soldiers, now aiming their muskets at her, could not get a clear shot. Finally the _hacienda_ door opened and three men emerged. A tall distinguished-looking man with grey hair and grey eyes pushed his way through the guards.

"I am Pablo de Solá," he said "Who are you and why do you need to speak to me?"

She was breathing heavily now, for the journey was starting to take its toll "A great injustice is about to be done. If you do not intervene, tomorrow in Los Angeles a man will be hanged without trial for actions that are not crimes," she declared.

"You have come from Los Angeles?" asked de Solá.

"Yes, Excellency."

"And when did you leave there?"

"This morning, Excellency."

"You have ridden this distance today?" he marveled. He looked around. "Alone?"

"Yes, Excellency."

"What of your husband, _Señora_ Emerson?"

"I am a widow," she replied.

He shook in head in disbelief. "Very well, _Señora_. If you will kindly surrender your other pistol to my _capitán_ , you may come inside and tell me what this is all about. Don Alfonso, I believe some brandy may be in order."

"Of course, Excellency."

Maggie handed over her pistol, then slid off of Tornado, resting her head against the saddle for a moment to steady herself. As Governor de Solá and the other two men started back to the doorway she called out: "A favor, your Excellency? If someone could see to my horse? He has carried me like the wind and whatever happens now he should be cared for."

It was Don Alfonso who replied. "Of course. I will have my head _vaquero_ look after him."

"Thank you," she nodded, as she began to follow them into the _hacienda_.

Once inside, Don Alfonso indicated a chair and Maggie sank gratefully into its padding. A servant brought her brandy, which she sipped. Governor de Solá settled himself into another chair and observed her for a moment. "Now _Señora,_ tell me of this great injustice."

She took several deep breaths in an effort to collect her thoughts. She realized that she had not planned for how she would actually explain things. So she began simply. She told of what she and her father had observed in the _pueblo_. She spoke of the actions of Zorro, of the rescues he had effected and of how he had found her and brought her home after her riding accident. At this the Governor observed, "Ah yes, El Zorro. I have heard much of this man, and I am not surprised that this has something to do with him." Then she continued with the account of his shooting and his unmasking as Don Diego de la Vega. "Alejandro's son? The outlaw Zorro? This makes no sense," said the Governor. Then he frowned and seemed to think for a moment. "Yet perhaps it does. Please, _Señora_ , continue." When she spoke of the flogging, de Solá's face darkened with rage. "The _comandante_ dares to publicly whip the son of a _hidalgo_!" He turned to Emilio, his secretary. "Who commands that garrison?"

"It is _Capitán_ Enrique Sanchez Monastario, of whom your Excellency has heard much in the past several months," replied the man. The Governor began shaking his head.

"It is worse, Excellency," continued Maggie. She then told of how martial law had been imposed to prevent any rescue, and how Diego was to be hanged on the morrow, as a traitor, without trial.

"Bah!" exclaimed de Solá. This is in part my fault. I should have acted sooner. Find _Coronel_ Menendez!" He turned back to Maggie: "I will send the head of my guard to Los Angeles to — "

"No, Excellency!" she cried. _Comandante_ Monastario is mad with power and revenge. A lone messenger is easily shot and explained away as an unfortunate consequence of the martial law or as a _bandito_ attack. But the _Comandante_ wouldn't dare hang Diego if the Governor and his guard presented themselves in the plaza of Los Angeles.

De Solá replied, "Los Angeles is some distance from here. You know you are asking a very difficult thing." The Governor leaned back in his chair, made a tent with his fingers, and stared at the ceiling for perhaps a minute. Then he turned to his host: "Alfonso, you have many horses, do you not?"

"Why, yes, Excellency, you know I do."

"How many of them can I borrow?" asked Governor de Solá.

Together the three men made a plan. Several of Don Alfonso's _vaqueros_ would leave immediately, leading the Governor's own coach team of six horses plus the regular mounts of six members of his guard. They would journey north as far as possible and when darkness overtook them they would make camp within sight of El Camino Real. The next morning, at first light, the Governor and his guard would set out north at full speed using Don Alfonso's borrowed horses. When the coach and its escort caught up with the earlier group there would be a complete change of horses in the hope that fresh mounts would allow the Governor to reach Los Angeles in time. De Solá then addressed Maggie: " _Señora_ , if you would care to take advantage of Don Alfonso's hospitality for a few days to recover from your journey I'm sure he would not object."

"Excellency, please, I must go with you! I couldn't bear to be here waiting, not knowing if — if you arrived in time!" she pleaded, her eyes bright with fear.

He eyed her for a long moment. "I think perhaps you have strong feelings for Don Diego."

"I don't — I don't know for sure. But I do know that if you do not act he will be dead by mid-afternoon tomorrow."

"Very well. Tomorrow you may join me in my coach. But now you must eat and sleep. We must leave at first light if we are to arrive in time to save young De la Vega."

As they had been speaking a woman entered the room and stood behind Don Alfonso. "This," he said, gesturing toward the woman, "is my housekeeper. She will show you to a room and bring you something to eat. If there is anything you require, just ask her."

"Excellency, I thank you with all my heart," said Maggie, with as much energy as she could muster. She was shown to a bedroom where she found hot water and towels. A nightgown was laid out on the bed. A hot meal on a tray was delivered shortly. She had not realized just how hungry she was. When she finished eating, she pulled off her riding boots and got out of her dusty clothing. She sat down and leaned back on the bed pillows, intending to think about the next day's journey. The housekeeper, coming later to retrieve the tray, found her deeply asleep. The servant gently covered her with a blanket then picked up the tray and left the room, leaving Maggie to her rest.

The same woman returned the next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten. " _Señora_ ," she said in a low voice. " _Señora_ ," she repeated, shaking Maggie gently, "you must dress and eat. They are readying the horses."

Maggie was instantly awake. She dressed quickly, noting that her clothes had been brushed and refreshed and her boots cleaned in the night. Breakfast with the Governor and Don Alfonso was a brief and silent affair. A chilly dawn lighted their way from the _hacienda_ to the waiting coach where the horses' breath was rising in columns of vapor. At the coach's door Maggie looked back at Don Alfonso. "I am forever grateful to you for this," she began.

" _Por nada_ ," he replied, smiling at her.

"Accept my thanks as well, Alfonso my old friend, for your always generous hospitality," declared his Excellency. The two men bowed to each other. "And now we must be on our way. Time is of the essence." Maggie and the Governor settled into the coach. The guards set off down the road, the driver cracked his whip over his team, and the coach rumbled into motion.

" _Vaya con Dios_ ," called Don Alfonso, as they sped away toward Los Angeles.


	21. Execution

**Chapter 21: Execution**

In the morning the wound was throbbing again, worse than before. Something yellowish was now seeping through the bandage and any movement was difficult. The workmen had finished constructing the gallows the evening before so the constant hammering had mercifully stopped and Diego was able to get a few hours of what passed for rest.

Mid-morning _Padre_ Vicente arrived to confess Diego and grant absolution. Once this was finished, the friar asked, "Do you wish me to carry a message to anyone for you, my son?"

"My father," replied Diego calmly. "Tell him — tell him I ask his forgiveness for all the pain and disappointment I have caused him."

"Diego, I have seen your father. There is no need to ask forgiveness of him. He is proud of you and of what you have done, and he understands why you could not tell him. But I will tell him that your thoughts were of him this morning."

" _Gracias, Padre_ ," said Diego. "And would you ask him to look after Bernardo? He has been loyalty itself to me.

"Of course, my son. I am sure Bernardo will have a place at the _hacienda_ for the rest of his life. The friar paused before asking, "Is there no one else? A young woman, perhaps?" Diego's face registered surprise. "I have not seen the two of you together very often, but I have seen the look in your eyes when you are with her. Do you not wish to give her a message? Some word of affection?"

"No, _Padre_. She already carries a sorrow for one man in her heart. I do not wish to burden her with another. I hope she will forget me very quickly." The young don bowed his head and remained silent.

"I believe there is very little chance of her ever forgetting you. But I will respect you wishes. And now I must leave you." _Padre_ Vicente rose, blessed Diego, and left the cell with a heavy heart.

They came for him about an hour after the Angelus had sounded. Sergeant Garcia led a squad of six lancers over to his cell. "Don Diego, I am sorry, but it is — it is time, and — and I have my orders," he declared in a voice choked with emotion.

"I understand," said Diego. "I know that you are only following orders. And I want you to follow your orders. I wish no one to be harmed on my account." He pulled himself up, trying to ignore the pain of the wound.

The Sergeant, now looking furtively both ways, passed a small bottle through the bars. "It is brandy. The innkeeper gave it to me. We thought it might make you...make you...help you...uh..." his voice trailed off.

" _Gracias_ ," replied Diego, taking the bottle. "This is most kind of you. You have always been a good friend, Sergeant." The liquid burned his throat but it was bracing none the less. "An excellent year," he quipped, trying to make Garcia feel better.

They bound his hands behind his back and led him out through the _cuartel_ yard to the plaza. The crowd was huge, and once again the _Comandante_ had stationed armed lancers, this time a double line with muskets at the ready, in a half-circle facing the onlookers. The gallows stood ready, its noose awaiting him. In spite of the increasing pain in his side he found the strength to walk fully upright across the area and mount the steps without assistance. They led him up to the noose. _For the sake of my father and my family name I will die well,_ he thought. _It is the last noble thing I can do._ _I will die with my head held high and in silence_. Then, in spite of himself, he found himself scanning the crowd looking for Maggie. He found the Colonel but did not see her anywhere. _Perhaps she has already forgotten me, and perhaps that is for the best_... Yet a last look at her face would have been a comfort.

As someone began to read the death warrant they placed the noose lightly around his neck. One of the lancers knelt to tie his ankles together. He saw tears running down Sergeant Garcia's face. It was then he saw his father, dressed in his most elegant suit and sitting his horse straight and proud in the midst of the crowd. Bernardo was at the old don's side, numb with sorrow. Out of respect the crowd were giving the two of them a wide berth. _I will watch my father's face and think of him until it is over._ He wassuddenly conscious of his own deep breaths, not knowing which one would be his last.

He gazed at his father and decided that the bad brandy must be having its effect because he was now aware of a low rumble growing in his ears. _Perhaps this will help._ But the rumble grew louder. _Thunder?_ But there was not a cloud in the sky. Still louder. Finally he saw his father and those at the rear of the throng turn and look down the road to the south. A hundred yards away a group of lancers rounded the bend at a full gallop. Shortly behind them came a coach pulled by six horses, all running at breakneck speed. As the lancers reached the plaza they slowed and began shouting: "Make way! Make way for his Excellency the Governor! Make way!" The crowd scattered before them. The coach roared into the plaza and up to the gallows. The driver, with difficulty, pulled up his team and stopped. A woman's voice was screaming, "No! NO! NO!" The coach door burst open and Pablo Vicente de Solá, Governor of Alta California, emerged, pointed up at Diego, and shouted, "Release that man unharmed!"


	22. Reprieve

**Chapter 22: Reprieve**

 _Comandante_ Monastario was taken aback by this unexpected arrival, but he recovered quickly. He strode up to the Governor, a broad smile on his face. "Excellency, this is a most unexpected pleasure! You have arrived just in time to witness the execution of the infamous outlaw El Zorro who has defied our laws and — "

" _Capitán_ Monastario," declared de Solá in a firm voice. "You are confined to your quarters until further notice!"

"But Excellency, I have captured Zorro and we are about to execute — "

The Governor nodded to _Coronel_ Menendez: "Escort the _Capitán_ to his rooms and post a guard at the door." A lancer duly appeared on each side of Monastario and he was led away into the _cuartel_.

Sergeant Garcia had rushed to remove the noose from Diego's neck and untie his hands. Then he and another lancer slowly half-led, half-carried Diego down the steps. Garcia was trying to be encouraging. "Do not worry, Don Diego...everything will be fine. We will find Doctor Avila for you, and...and he will bandage your wound again...and...put more ointment on your back...and give you some more medicine...and... you will soon be well, you will see."

As they passed under the _cuartel_ gates, the Sergeant headed not for the cells, but for a room that the soldiers used as their mess. They sat Diego down on a bench, allowing him to lean forward over the table. Weary beyond measure and still in pain, Diego raised his head and croaked: "Water. For the love of God, water." The sergeant filled a clay cup from the large water jar and brought it to Diego's lips. He drained the cup slowly.

"More?" Diego nodded and Garcia returned to the water jar. But before he could refill the cup, there was a clatter. The sergeant turned to see Diego collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

Governor de Solá, his secretary Emilio, and Don Alejandro were talking in the _Comandante's_ office when Sergeant Garcia burst through the door. "It is Don Diego!" he announced in alarm. "He is...he is... he has...COME!" he gestured wildly. All of them followed the sergeant back to mess room where Diego lay on his back on the floor. Don Alejandro knelt at his son's side and tried to rouse him.

"Diego! Diego!" he cried shaking his son's shoulder.

The Governor beckoned to one of his guards. "Find the doctor immediately." The soldier nodded and left.

"Diego!" cried his father, again and again, without result.

Maggie lowered herself back onto the coach seat. They had done it! They had prevented the hanging! Now she tried to think of what she should do next, but her mind was numb and her body seemed to be going numb as well. Suddenly her father was climbing into the coach beside her.

"Maggie, are you all right? I don't believe I was stupid enough to let you do this. We have to get you home right now."

"No, I want to see him. I have to see that he's all right!"

"You can't do that," replied the Colonel. "They've taken him into the _cuartel_ and closed the gates. Don Alejandro is already in there, Doctor Avila was just admitted, and if Governor de Solá took the trouble to come here and intervene I'm sure he'll let no further harm come to Don Diego. You are coming home with me right now. And you're in no condition to ride alone" So this time it was her father who held her before him in the saddle, and this time she managed to lean back and fall asleep.

Since Doctor Avila's presence was required at any execution he was close at hand. He arrived at the mess room and knelt to examine the senseless Diego. The doctor lifted an eyelid, felt for a pulse at the neck, and listened for a heartbeat. Then he slightly peeled back the bandage on the rifle wound and observed the blood and the yellow discharge. He looked over at his old friend. "Alejandro, did you bring a coach?"

"No, I rode. We brought a cart to...we did not bring a coach." his voice trailed off.

De Solá shook his head and thought to himself: _You brought a cart to take you son's body home._ "Then take your son home in my coach. The horses are somewhat fatigued but I am sure they can make it as far as your _hacienda_."

"Yes," said the doctor. Take the coach but proceed slowly. The wound is bleeding again and we do not want to make it worse. I will ride ahead and make preparations." He rose and hurried away to gather medical supplies. Diego was lifted carefully and laid very gently across the coach seat, his head in his father's lap. Bernardo knelt on the floor, holding Diego's legs to keep him from slipping off the seat. The pace was slow for the sake of both the passengers and the horses.

By the time they reached the _hacienda_ all was in readiness. Much water had been heated in the kitchen. Cresencia had cut up a sheet into long narrow panels and folded these up to make a pair of linen pads. Rosa, as instructed, had crushed certain fresh herbs and added the powders Doctor Avila had given her, then mixed it all with oil and goose grease for a large quantity of ointment. When the coach arrived they carried the still unconscious Diego up to his room and laid him face down on his bed. As gently as possible, the doctor cleaned the dirt and dried blood from the whip welts. Finally Cresencia laid down one of the linen pads, coated with the ointment, and they rolled Diego over onto it. Now the doctor could tend to the wound in the young don's side without disturbing his back. When Doctor Avila had finished and was wiping his hands, Don Alejandro looked at his old friend and said, "Tell me truly, Eduardo — will he live?"

"I cannot say. None of the things he has suffered, taken individually, is enough to kill him. The rifle wound is serious but not fatal. The bullet touched no vital organs. The flogging, too, requires attention but of itself would not kill him. The lack of food and water has clearly weakened him but again, by itself, would not be of great concern. But the three of them, all together...I do not know. Your son is young and strong, and this works much in his favor. And I will return every day. But everyone has limits. If I were you, I would pray. for Diego's life is in God's hands."


	23. Crisis

**Chapter 23: Crisis**

The next afternoon the fever came on him. It was clear that the wound had festered. At times he muttered and thrashed restlessly, soaking the sheets with sweat. Once he called for Tornado, once for a sword, once for his father. At other times he lay still and his breathing became so shallow that it could hardly be detected. Doctor Avila was now staying at the _hacienda_. Don Alejandro refused to leave his son's bedside except when the doctor ordered him to eat, saying: "Alejandro, if I have two patients to tend it will only make things more difficult." Bernardo remained as well, sleeping for brief stretches on blankets that he had brought into the room. Always someone was bathing Diego's face with cool water, hoping to bring down the fever. Sometimes he would partially awaken. Then he could take whatever liquids they could get into him: broth, fruit juice, whatever medicine the doctor mixed. Otherwise, they tended him and prayed.

Each landowner had sent a _vaquero_ to serve as a messenger. They would arrive just after dawn, remain throughout the day, and depart at dusk. Although their stated purpose was to bring immediate news of any change — for better or for worse — in Don Diego's condition, they were not above helping the _rancho's_ very distracted workers get through their normal day. That is, if anything at the _hacienda_ could be said to be normal.

For three days Diego lay in the fever's grip. Early in the evening of the third day Doctor Avila drew Don Alejandro aside. "I believe the crisis will come tonight, and I cannot say for sure how it will turn. As I told you once, he is young and strong. Nevertheless, as a precaution, you should send for the _padre_ , and you must prepare yourself for the worst." Later on the doctor would swear he saw his old friend age ten years in that brief moment.

And so their vigil continued. _Padre_ Vicente came and administered the last rites. As he was leaving he turned to Diego's father and said, "You must not despair. The entire _pueblo_ is praying for your son. There are now so many candles in front of the altar of Our Lady that I have forbidden any more to be placed there lest they set the church on fire. God will not abandon Diego after all he has done for His children. Have faith!"

"I will try, _Padre_. I will try," sighed a weary Don Alejandro, as the priest mounted his mule and left.

All day the heat had been oppressive, and sunset brought little relief. Some hours later a massive storm broke with great wind and torrential rain. On the way back to Diego's room after a brief meal, Don Alejandro felt a sudden draft as he passed a doorway. Looking inside, he saw that a window had blown open and rain was falling onto the window seat below. He crossed the room, grasped the open window's handle, and pulled. The wind had jammed the frame in an open position and it did not budge. Don Alejandro pulled a second time, harder, but still without success. A third time the old don reached out into the rain and pulled with all his remaining strength. At first nothing, but suddenly the frame came loose and pulled shut, throwing him back on the cushions lining the window seat.

He fastened the window shut and fell back on the cushions, weary and panting from the effort. He lay still for a moment, and then, unbidden, the tears began to flow. He felt them running down his cheeks and he let them come. He wept quietly, for the hard work and sweat that his own parents had invested in building the _rancho_. He wept for his own efforts to leave a fine inheritance to his only son. He wept for the criticism he had heaped on a son who did not deserve it. He wept for the possible end of his line, for the end of an honorable name that went back seven generations in Spain. When the tears had ceased, he took a deep breath and tried to rouse himself, but he found that he lacked the strength to move. He took a second deep breath and tried again. With the third breath, he fell into a profound sleep born from exhaustion and despair.

At some point the sun had begun shining and someone was trying to wake him up. "Alejandro! Alejandro!" He opened his eyes to the face of Doctor Avila.

In that moment he felt an absolute terror of what the doctor might have to tell him. But as he grew more awake, he saw that the expression on his friend's face was no longer somber. Still not daring to hope, he murmured only, "How...?"

"Alejandro, my old friend! Come and say good morning to your son."

"He is awake?"

"Sí. And the fever is down. God has answered our prayers."

He hurried upstairs, still not daring to believe the good news. At the doorway he stopped and looked into the room. He beheld his son in a freshly changed bed, bathed, propped up on pillows, looking weary and drawn, but awake and sipping something from a cup that Bernardo held to his lips. When Diego looked up and saw his father standing in the doorway, he said quietly, " _Buenos dias_ , Father. I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble." At this Don Alejandro moved to the bedside and placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

"You have been no trouble, Diego. And it is I who am sorry to have doubted you all this time. I should have known better. But you were so convincing..."

"I intended that your ignorance would keep you safe. I am sorry that it pained you so, but I saw no other way." He took a deep breath. "But what happened, and how did I get here? The last thing I remember is seeing a coach galloping into the plaza and hearing a woman scream."

"Perhaps when you are stronger — "began his father.

"Alejandro, he should know." interrupted the Doctor Avila. "That voice was the _Señora_ Emerson. Somehow she found a horse outside of the _pueblo_ and evaded the patrols and rode to San Juan Capistrano and brought back Governor de Solá in time to intercede for you."

"Horse?" echoed Diego. "Patrols? The Governor?"

"There is much you do not know," continued the Doctor, "but your father is right, that can be left for later. Now you must rest. And eat," he added, as Cresencia appeared with a tray bearing a bowl of soup.

Bernardo, having set down the cup, relieved the housekeeper of the soup. He sat down on the edge of the bed, scooped up a spoonful, and held it out to his patròn, smiling. Diego looked a the doctor. "I suppose I must be content to be fed like a child?"

"Only until you are strong enough to hold a spoon for yourself," replied his father. Bernardo was now nodding vigorously and smiling. Diego opened his mouth.

"And now I must go," declared Doctor Avila to the elder De la Vega. I look forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight. I will be back tomorrow afternoon to look in on him. In the meantime I must pay a call on the _Señora_ Emerson. Happily _Rancho_ Flores is not far from here."

"Is the _Señora_ Emerson unwell?" inquired Diego, between mouthfuls.

Doctor Avila chose his words carefully. "She is of course much fatigued from her journey, and I understand she has had some trouble sleeping.

Outside in the hallway, Don Alejandro turned to the doctor: "I do not wish him to become overly concerned with the _Señora_ Emerson. I am grateful for what she did but her adventurous streak is unbecoming in a woman."

The Doctor gently reproached his friend. "Alejandro, your son lives. God gave you your miracle. Do not complain because you do not approve of the means by which He worked it."

 _The coach was lurching violently side to side, bouncing all over the road. She was tossed against its walls, once or twice against the roof, and she could hardly manage to keep herself in the seat. The pounding of galloping hooves echoed in her ears, yet looking out the window they seemed to be barely moving. She leaned out the window to shout for the driver to hurry, but there didn't seem to be a driver. Finally the landscape began to look familiar. She could see buildings in the distance — at last they were nearing the pueblo. They crept closer...and closer. Now she could make out the crowded plaza. Still closer...and now she could make out an unfamiliar structure at the far end. Hooves continued to pound the earth. Still closer...more detail coming into view. She leaned out the window again, and saw to her horror a gallows, and a hanging figure clad in a black hat and cape twisting...twisting slowly in the wind._

She sat bolt upright and screamed, covered in a cold sweat.

A moment later her father rushed through her door. "The dream again?"

"I'm afraid so," she sighed, feeling exhausted.

The Colonel sat down on her bed and took her hand. "Maggie, you heard the news that Miguel brought yesterday. Don Diego is going to recover. He's going to be all right. And tomorrow evening you will take the powder that Doctor Avila left for you. You can't continue like this."

"I know, Papa," she replied, but I think I am going to actually have to see him in order to believe that he's not dead".


	24. Reunion

**Chapter 24: Reunion**

Some three weeks after his escape from the gallows, Diego was out of bed taking his breakfast at a small table in his room. When Bernardo entered the room, he looked up and said, "Bernardo, I want you to lay out one of my good suits." The _muzo's_ face registered surprise. "And have my horse saddled." Now the _muzo's_ face registered panic. Bernardo began shaking his head. He held his hands, palms down, thumbs touching, slightly above the table. He moved them apart a foot or so then rotated and lowered them so that his little fingers touched the table. With his right hand above the space he had just defined, he made a motion of grasping and lifting something. This was his sign for Doctor Avila's medical bag. Then he held up seven fingers.

"Yes, I know Doctor Avila would not have me riding for another week. But my side has stopped hurting — almost — and I am tired of being treated like an invalid." At this his servant set his mouth in a straight line, crossed his arms on his chest, inclined his head, and glared in disapproval. "Very well, I am still somewhat of an invalid. But not entirely. And I am growing more and more restless every day. So see to my clothes and have my horse saddled. And don't go looking for my father, I know he has gone to discuss some business with Don César," declared Diego with more emotion than he had intended."

The ride to _Rancho_ Flores was longer than he remembered. Also more tiring than he remembered. Still, the fatigue would pass in time — he hoped. When he arrived at the _hacienda_ , one of the stablehands came up to take his horse. The man bowed from the waist almost formally and greeted him: "Welcome, Don Diego!"

" _Por favor_ , do not bow like that. There is no royal blood in my veins. I have come on a simple visit."

"The _coronel_ is in his study," the man offered, taking the horse's reins.

"And _Señora_ Emerson?" Diego inquired.

"I believe she is out in the kitchen garden. You can easily go around the patio to find her."

As he rounded the patio wall he saw her standing before a patch of something green and leafy. As she looked up at his approach, her eyes widened and her face registered surprise and relief. She hurried around the beds to meet him.

"Don Diego!" she cried, grasping his arms and looking up into his face. "Is is really you?! How do you feel? Are you well?"

"As far as I know I am really me, and I am at least well enough to be here." _Or at least I think I am well enough to be here_ , he thought, beginning to feel tired again. "May we walk together?" he asked, taking her arm.

"You want to walk around the vegetables?"

"It is as good a place as any." He had rehearsed for this moment for many days, and so he began: "I owe you my life..."

"Don Diego, you owe me nothing. Anyone could have ridden out to — "

"Wait!" he said, interrupting her. Now he took both of her hands and turned her to face him. "We have known each other for some time now, _sí_?"

"Yes, we have," she replied evenly.

"And we are friends?"

"Yes," she said slowly. _Could we be more than friends?_ she wondered.

"So after everything that has happened perhaps we could dispense with formality and you could call me simply 'Diego'? And might I have the privilege of calling you — "

" 'Maggie', she interrupted, with a twinkle in her eye. For although, as a true _caballero_ , he had never said a word, she knew he disliked her father's pet name for her.

"Uh...no...er...I thought...rather..." he stammered.

She raised her index finger to his lips, silencing him. "Diego," she said very softly, "you may call me whatever you wish."

He took her hand and replied equally softly, " _Gracias_ , Margarita," loving the way the Spanish form of her name rolled off his tongue. He uncurled her other three fingers and planted a gentle kiss on her palm. Then he pressed palm and kiss to her cheek, his well-rehearsed speech of gratitude and devotion completely forgotten. He took her arm again and they began to walk. "My father told me what you did," he began. "You should never have put yourself in such danger. You might have been killed."

"I couldn't just wait and let the _Comandante_ hang you," she replied, as if riding almost fifty miles in a single stretch was something she did every day.

"But how did you manage it? Many have told me about the martial law and the armed patrols and the shoot-on-sight order on El Camino Real. Why would you risk yourself like that?..."

 _Do I really have to tell you why?_ she wondered.

"...You love your horse, why would you risk Thunderhead like that?"

"I wasn't riding Thunderhead. I had a different horse from outside the _pueblo_ area."

"I don't understand. Where did you get your horse?"

"I suppose I'll have to tell you eventually." She hesitated. "You see, I actually rode _your_ horse."

"You rode my palomino?"

"No. I rode the great black stallion you always ride as Zorro."

Diego's response was stunned silence. Then: "Tornado? You road Tornado to San Juan Capistrano?"

" 'Tornado,' is that his name?"

"Yes, that is his name, but how did you find him?"

"I found the cave." She explained about the day she had been riding and needed to seek shelter from the sudden storm. She described seeing Zorro ride out, and then told him about her brief exploration of the cave. Finally she told him how she had seen Bernardo come to the corral to check on food and water for the horse. "As soon as I saw Bernardo, I knew it had to be you. He's completely devoted to you and he wouldn't have done something like that for anyone else. Don't blame him, I'm sure he never saw me. And of course he never told me anything."

"Then you knew..."

"Yes, I knew."

"But you gave no indication..."

"I'm so sorry." She bowed her head. "That's why I left you so suddenly that day in the market. I hadn't seen you coming, so I wasn't prepared not to give myself away. I know what I did was very rude, and I didn't wish to hurt you, but I just panicked. Can you forgive me for that?"

They had completed a walk around the garden beds and were standing back where their conversation had begun. "I think perhaps we can work something out," said Diego gently.

At that moment Colonel Sheraton was making his way across the kitchen. "Maggie, we have an invitation to dinner from Don Gregorio and I I " He stopped suddenly. Through the open back door he saw his daughter and Diego, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, having what was obviously a very private conversation. And now they were kissing. He smiled, shook his head slightly, and thought: _I think I'll just go back and read this on my own_.

A man of long military experience, he knew when a strategic retreat was in order.

Upon his return to the De la Vega _hacienda_ a very happy but very tired Diego was greeted by a furious Don Alejandro. "What do you think you are doing?! You know you are not supposed to be riding for another week! You could have collapsed and died out there somewhere!"

"Well, as you can see, Father, I have not fallen off my horse and I still seem to be very much alive. However, you and Doctor Avila will have your wish," he said dismounting slowly. "This trip to _Rancho_ Flores has tired me much more than I thought it would, so I will not be riding again for several days."

"And you must not take too much interest in the _Señora_ Emerson," chided his father. "We will make some gesture of gratitude to her and then you can get on with your life."

" 'Gesture of gratitude,' " Diego repeated, incredulous. "Father, she saved my life at great risk to her own and you speak of some 'gesture of gratitude' as though she had returned a book you had misplaced. What sort of 'gesture of gratitude' is my life worth?"

The old don persisted. "Diego, you do not need to feel obligated to her. There are many fine young women here who carry the noblest blood of Spain in their veins. Any one of them would make you an excellent match."

Diego rounded on his father, something he had never done before. " Oh really?! Are you talking about me or about one of your prize horses?"

To this Don Alejandro made no answer.

After a moment Diego looked at his father and said: "Forgive me, Father. The ride has tired me to excess. I wish to rest now." The two men looked at each other in silence, then Don Alejandro turned and went to his study and Diego made his way up to his room.


	25. Permission

**Chapter 25: Permission**

In the Pueblo de Los Angeles, certain rules were to be observed in the courting of a young woman. The first of these was the permission of her father, although it was not clear that this was necessary for a young woman who was a widow. After some thought, he decided the traditional approach was best, or at least what he was more comfortable with. And so it happened that a sunny afternoon some two weeks after his previous visit found a much-rested Diego riding over to _Rancho_ Flores in order to speak privately with Colonel Sheraton.

He arrived at the _hacienda_ and was shown into the _sala_. He asked for the Colonel and in a few minutes Maggie's father appeared. "Good afternoon, Don Diego. I'm afraid Maggie isn't here just now. She has gone over to _Rancho_ Ramirez to sew with _Señorita_ Teresa and her maid."

This was as Diego had hoped. _Bless you, Bernardo_ , he thought, _for your mysterious ability to discover the most obscure information._ "That is just as well, Colonel Sheraton, for it is with you that I wish to speak," he said, feeling himself becoming nervous.

"With me? Very well, what's on your mind?"

"Over time, Margarita has become very dear and very important to me. And not just because of her ride to fetch the Governor. She is strong and caring and beautiful. I ask your permission to seek her hand in marriage." He surprised himself by getting it all out in one breath. Now he waited for an answer.

"Yes, my daughter is all those things," replied her father, "although you left out 'stubborn' and 'willful.' But I can't really give you my permission."

Diego was shocked. He could not say that he and the Colonel were the best of friends. After all, when Maggie and her father had been guests at their _hacienda_ the man had spent most of his time with his father, which was only natural. But he had always felt that the Colonel was at least well-disposed toward him. He did not understand this reaction at all. A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, with a heavy heart, Diego asked, "May I know why you refuse me?"

Colonel Sheraton began to laugh. "Oh no, no, my boy, you misunderstand completely! Or perhaps I just said that badly. As you may have noticed," he said, giving Diego a wry look, "my daughter has been her own woman for quite some time. You know she has been married before. She makes her own decisions. I cannot give you my permission because this permission is not mine to give. If you want Maggie's hand in marriage, you must ask her for it, not me."

It was as if the sun suddenly came out from behind dark clouds. "Then you do not object?"

Her father smiled at him. "Diego, I couldn't be happier. In fact..." he walked over to a decanter, poured out two glasses of _jerez,_ and handed one to Diego..."I wish you the best of luck." The glasses clinked. "Although if I know my daughter, I doubt you'll need it."

Word of their courtship sped by the fastest means known to the _pueblo_ : servants' gossip. If she went to the _pueblo_ on market day, Don Diego was invariably there to carry her basket. One afternoon she stopped to look at a pair of silver earrings. She fingered them for a moment, then shook her head and set them back down, saying, "I have some things that belonged to my mother. I don't really need these." As the two of them walked away, Diego quietly glanced back to the seller and nodded. The merchant nodded in return, the earrings disappeared from the table, and the next day they were delivered to _Rancho_ Flores by one of the De la Vega servants. Upon occasion, Bernardo arrived at Rancho Flores bearing a bouquet of flowers. And always the same thing happened. The _muzo_ arrived at the door. Maggie was summoned. He removed his hat, bowed, and held out the flowers. She took them. He smiled broadly, bowed again, put on his hat, and left.

Not to be outdone, if she and Concepciòn baked honey cakes — of which she knew Diego was exceptionally fond — a small basketful made their way to the De la Vega _hacienda_ the same afternoon.

They resumed their morning rides. He called for her several times a week, and they revisited their old routes. The first time they arrived at the meadow where _Duende_ had balked, she caught him looking at her frowning. " _Por favor_ ," he said, do not attempt it. "I would rather not have to change into Zorro so I can bring you home a second time."

"But I'm riding Thunderhead," she replied easily. Then, seeing that the concern on his face was genuine, she said. "Very well, just this once more." Before he could stop her she took Thunderhead to the top of the meadow, kicked him into a gallop, and headed toward the fallen trees. Diego held his breath. The great grey sailed over the log pile with room to spare. Returning to him, she declared, "Now I'm done with it, I promise," and they rode on.

One morning, dismounting, he was met by the Colonel instead of by his daughter. "Good morning, Diego. Maggie — er, Margarita, as she says I should call her when you are around — would like you to meet her at the barn today." Puzzled, he led his mount around the _hacienda_ to the outbuildings.

She was waiting by the corral fence. As she saw him approach, she walked toward the barn door and said pleasantly, "I have a surprise for you. An old friend of yours is waiting for you inside the barn."

"An old friend of mine, here?" he replied. He couldn't imagine who she might be talking about.

"Why don't you just go inside and see him?" she replied with a mysterious smile.

He started into the barn, remembering all too well what had happened the last time the two of them were together inside this building. Suddenly, at the third stall on the right, a great black horse tossed his head in recognition, stamped, and let out a loud welcoming whinny. "Tornado! How on earth did you get here?!" he cried, rushing up to the stallion, hugging his head, and scratching his ears. "I have missed you, my friend!" Then Diego turned to her. "How _did_ he get here?"

"Don Alfonso Moreno had some business in the _pueblo_ , so he sent what he believes to be my horse home along with his agent. They arrived yesterday. I thought you two would be glad to see each other. Would you care to ride him? His saddle and bridle were also returned."

Diego couldn't resist. He saddled Tornado himself, happily noting that he could do so without effort. As they rode out, she asked him, "Will you take him home with you? In spite of what everyone in San Juan Capistrano may think he is your horse."

"I will have to give that some thought. Since I brought him out of the hills he has always been kept alone in the cave. I'm not sure how he would react to suddenly being stabled among many other horses. Did anyone say there had been trouble with him in San Juan?"

"No, no one. But he may have simply been too tired. He got me there in time but it cost him every bit of his strength to do it."

"As it cost you..." Diego observed.

"You know I would do it again in a heartbeat. Anyone would." The silence between them was lengthening uncomfortably when she suddenly kicked Thunderhead into a gallop. "Catch me if the two of you can!" she called over her shoulder.

He laughed and launched Tornado after her. He thrilled to the speed and rhythm of his magnificent mount, and to the feel of the wind in his face. He also realized that at this moment he was literally pursuing the woman he loved and who, in spite of knowing everything about him, seemed to love him in return. He decided it was a good day to be alive.


	26. Invitation

**Chapter 26: Invitation**

It was three months to the day that Don Diego had awakened from the ordeal that almost killed him. And in the Pueblo de Los Angeles, life went calmly on. Sergeant Garcia remained as temporary _comandante_. Not surprisingly, things had become much calmer since the easygoing Garcia took charge. He did enforce the law — mostly. But he also knew the difference between a dangerously drunken _vaquero_ and a high-spirited _muchacho_ simply bent on mischief.

For reasons known only to himself, Governor de Solá had elected to remain in Los Angeles. Couriers carried California's official business back and forth between Los Angeles and Monterey, and twice a week his Excellency and his secretary sequestered themselves in a small room of the _cuartel_ that now held all of _Capitán_ Monastario's official reports.

Diego's recovery progressed. He had been up and around for a number of weeks now. He rode out occasionally, although riding out still sometimes tired him. Once or twice, in the privacy of the patio, he had crossed swords with Don Alejandro. At first they tried free swordplay, but Diego's reactions were slow; he became very frustrated very quickly. Then one night he dreamed of being a student back in Spain. His fencing master, Juan Morales de Silva y Montez, was barking out commands for the seemingly endless drills that he put his fencing class through every day. The next afternoon Diego sat down with pen and paper and reconstructed as many of the drills as he could recall. Working with his father, they performed these exercises daily and finally Diego could feel his skills returning to their former level.

One afternoon, Diego and Don Alejandro were in the _hacienda_ stableyard. Diego was currying the palomino gelding he usually rode when Arturo appeared escorting a soldier over to them. He was not a soldier they recognized, and from the look of his uniform the man appeared to be an officer of the governor's own guard. He strode up to Diego and held out a letter: "For you, Don Diego," he said. "I am to wait for a reply".

Diego took the letter and turned it over, noting the royal seal. " From the governor?" he asked.

" _Si_."

Diego broke the seal and opened the letter. It was brief, but as he read the few lines he felt an icy knot forming in his stomach:

I ask that you call upon me tomorrow, in the early afternoon. I have some questions that I must put to you.

Pablo Vicente de Solá  
Governor of Alta California

Diego looked up from the letter and forced what he hoped was a friendly, casual smile "Inform his Excellency that I will be pleased to call upon him tomorrow as he requests."

" _Gracias_ , Don Diego," replied the officer. He bowed, then headed back toward the _hacienda_.

Diego handed the letter to his father, who read it and sighed. "Well, perhaps it is nothing. But in any case I will go with you tomorrow."

"No father!" insisted Diego. If it means what I fear, I must go alone. The responsibility for Zorro's actions must rest on me and only me. I do not wish to see anyone else endangered. I do not wish to see anyone else harmed. I —."

Alejandro grasped him firmly by the shoulders. "Diego, you are my son! I _will_ go with you tomorrow!" And the glint in the old don's eyes and the steel in his voice told Diego that his father would brook no opposition in this.

Diego spent a restless evening. He tried reading but found that he could not concentrate. He tried to play chess with Bernardo, but his attention fared little better. Finally he poured himself a glass of brandy and excused himself to the patio. He settled into one of the chairs, stretched out his legs, and leaned his head back to look at the stars. Sitting there, quietly sipping the brandy, letting the night sounds occupy part of his mind, his thoughts began to untangle.

He knew he felt fear for the morrow, and that in itself seemed reasonable. But he could not pinpoint exactly what he was afraid of. He knew he had endured Monastario's torments with dignity. He had not cried out at the flogging, he had not begged for mercy at his "sentence", and he remembered mounting the steps to the scaffold unassisted and with a straight if painful back, telling himself repeatedly that the last gift he could give his father was to die well. Then had come the pounding of horses' hooves, the rumble of a speeding carriage, much shouting, and a woman's scream. After that, things were less distinct. And then it came to him. That day much of his terror had been masked by extreme exhaustion and physical pain. He now understood that if the governor chose to try him — he had, after all, never been called to account for his actions as Zorro — and hang him, he was not sure he could muster the courage to die well a second time.

Knowing at last what troubled him so greatly, he offered up a silent prayer: _O Dios, give me the strength to endure with dignity whatever happens tomorrow_. Then he drained the last of his brandy and went up to bed.

 **A/N: The character of Diego's fencing master, Juan Morales de Silva y Montez, was created by Susan Kite for her Zorro fictions "European Encounter" and "California Encounter", and appears here with her permission.**


	27. Absolution

**Chapter 27: Absolution**

"We have a fine day for riding, do we not?" asked Don Alejandro.

"Yes, father, we do." was Diego's terse reply.

"And perhaps, when we have finished with the Governor, we can visit Senor Gonzales. I think one of the stirrups on this saddle is loose and in need of repair."

"As you wish, father," was his son's flat reply.

Beginning to feel exasperated, the elder don reined in his horse and turned to his son. "Diego, if the governor of California planned to arrest you he would send out a score of lancers to bring you to the _cuartel_. He would not send a polite note asking you to call upon him as if he wished to discuss the price of tallow. I assure you, nothing that happens today will end with you as a prisoner!"

"I hope you are right, father." said Diego.

"I know I am right," his father replied as he spurred his horse forward. "Now let us be on our way."

Alejandro had good reason for his optimism. Last night, after Diego had retired, he had summoned six of his most trusted _vaqueros_ to the _hacienda's_ kitchen where he had ordered Cresencia and Rosa to assemble fifteen days' provisions for four men. These had been packed onto two horses, and at the first glimmer of daylight one of the men had set out south toward San Gabriel. He was instructed to travel half a day's journey, then find a sheltered site from which he could watch the road. If he recognized three riders, one of whom was Don Diego, he was to signal them off the road and they were to head south and east, possibly crossing the border out of New Spain. If no one from the _hacienda_ appeared for two days, he was to return home.

The remaining five _vaqueros_ were to slip unnoticed into Los Angeles and stay inconspicuous, taking care only to get near to the _cuartel_ gate and wait for a signal once they saw Don Diego and Don Alejandro arrive. Each man would be armed with two pistols and a hunting knife, with ammunition and an extra pistol in his saddlebags. If indeed the governor attempted to arrest Diego, Alejandro had determined that his son would not be taken again.

Their ride into the pueblo proved uneventful. Father and son dismounted in front of the _comandante's_ office. Nodding to the two lancers who flanked the doorway Diego stated "Diego De la Vega, here to see the governor at his request." One of the lancers nodded in return and admitted them.

Pablo de Solá, seated at his desk and handing a newly-signed paper to his secretary, looked up as they entered. "Ah, Don Diego. Welcome!" Noticing the elder De la Vega, he added: "And Don Alejandro —. a most pleasant surprise! Please, _señores_ , sit down and make yourselves comfortable." He gathered up a few more documents and handed them to his secretary, who placed them on a small table near the wall and then sat down beside the table and took pen and ink as if to take notes.

The governor made the usual small talk for a few minutes. He enquired about Diego's continued recovery, Don Alejandro's gout, the effect of the recent rains on this year's grape crop, and prospects for a good olive harvest. Then he fixed his gaze on the younger De la Vega.

"Don Diego, in investigating the matter of _Comandante_ Monastario, I have talked to many people about many things. Yet I find that there are a number of unanswered question which, I fear, must be resolved. So I will put these questions to you, and I must insist that you answer them truthfully. Do you understand?'

"Of course, Excellency," replied Diego evenly, although the icy knot was again beginning to tighten in his stomach.

"Understand that I dislike having to ask these things," began the Governor, "but I must know: — " Alejandro was now holding his breath — "was there some quarrel of a personal nature between you and the _comandante_?"

Diego was dumbfounded. Of all of the things de Solá might have asked, this was the last thing he expected. "Personal nature? No, Excellency," he replied, shaking his head.

"You are sure?" said the governor. "A disagreement over a matter of etiquette? A wager not properly settled?

"No, Excellency," Diego repeated.

"A hand of cards called into question?" Here the Governor's eyes narrowed. "A woman's affection, perhaps? For a young don such as yourself that would not be at all unusual."

"No, nothing like that! I am sorry, Excellency, but I do not understand. Why do you ask about such matters?"

The Governor pulled a stack of papers into the middle of his desk. "You see, Don Diego, I have made a very careful study of _Comandante_ Monastario's official reports since your return from Spain. And what I find is that your name does not appear here at all " He laid his hand on the stack. "Not even once."

This was in fact a true statement, due largely to the fact that the governor and his secretary had spent the past two months rewriting certain reports to remove Don Diego's name, and even a few accounts of some of Zorro's less significant deeds. In fact, the governor was now quite proficient at forging both Monastario's name and his initials.

"So you see, if there is no mention of your name in the official reports, and there was no private quarrel between you and the _comandante_ , I am at a total loss as to account for his extreme and utterly disgraceful treatment of you. You are _quite_ sure that you can shed no further light on this matter?"

Diego simply replied, "I am sorry, Excellency. I cannot."

"Very well," stated the governor. "Then I have no alternative." Diego felt his heart began to race. De Solá rose suddenly to his feet, snapped to attention, bowed stiffly, and declared: "Diego José De la Cruz De la Vega, on behalf of Ferdinand the Seventh, King of Spain, I extend to you his majesty's most profound and sincere apologies for the treatment so unjustly meted out to you by an officer of the King's army. And," the governor continued, "if you should wish to apply to the crown for compensation, you will have my fullest support."

"Excellency," Diego stammered, stunned by the Governor's words, "I don't know what to say..."

But Alejandro was quick with a reply. "I think I speak for both my son and myself when I say that we have no wish for compensation. We only wish to put this entire matter behind us once and for all."

"If that is your wish also, Don Diego...?" queried de Solá.

"It is," Diego agreed.

"...then I am most happy to declare this matter closed. Emilio, please note this in the official record." The secretary nodded and continued writing, and the governor picked up the stack of papers and set them aside with a slight thump. And now, _señores_ ," continued de Solá, smiling, "perhaps some refreshment?." He turned to his secretary and nodded. The man rose, went through a side door, and returned with a tray bearing a decanter and glasses. The governor pointed to his own desk and said "I will serve, Emilio. You may go." He picked up the decanter and poured three glasses of a shimmering golden liquid. "Gentlemen, I give you the finest _jerez_ Spain has to offer," he said, handing a glass to each of them. "To the King!" he exclaimed, raising his glass.

"To the king!" echoed both De la Vegas, rising and raising their glasses.

As they were settling back into their chairs, Don Alejandro, trying very hard to sound casual, queried, "I wonder what has happened to _Capitán_ Monastario? I understand he has not been seen in the _pueblo_ for quite some time."

"Ah well," replied the Governor, "that is because _Capitán_ Enrique Sanchez Monastario left quietly and under guard for Monterey some weeks ago. He will return to Spain — perhaps in chains, perhaps not, I haven't yet made up my mind — where he will face a military tribunal as a result of his many crimes against the people of Los Angeles. In the meantime, Sergeant Garcia will continue to serve as acting _comandante_ until I decide otherwise."

Diego decided to risk a question. "And if I man ask, Excellency, what do you propose to do about Zorro?"

"Ah, Zorro! The mysterious and gallant _Señor_ Zorro," murmured De Solá, leaning back in his chair. "Well, after reading all of these reports I have concluded that our former _comandante_ had a definite flare for overstatement. To me _Señor_ Zorro seems to have been more of a nuisance than an outlaw. He simply sought to put right a number of wrongs perpetrated by the _comandante_ on the more helpless people of Los Angeles. I don't plan to spend a lot of effort trying to capture a so-called outlaw whose chief victim seems to have been _Comandante_ Monastario's pride. Also, it seems that Zorro has not been seen in the _pueblo_ for some time, so perhaps he has left the area for good. Although..." the Governor frowned slightly and seemed to stare into the space just above Diego's head, "I suspect that if El Zorro chooses to ride again, it will be only for a very good cause."

He rose and drank the last of his sherry. "And now, _señores_ , I must ask you to excuse me. I have many things to do today, as I am sure you do also."

"Certainly, Excellency," said Alejandro, rising with Diego, bowing slightly.

The governor followed them to the door and watched as they descended to the street and mounted their horses. " _Adios_ , _señores_. And Don Diego," he added, "go home, grow stronger, and live a long and prosperous life here in Alta California."

"Thank you, Excellency. I will try to do exactly that," responded the young don, with a smile.

Don Alejandro was still carrying his hat, and as he turned his horse away from the hitching rail he raised the hat in salute to the governor. This was a slightly odd gesture, since a _caballero_ typically only raised his hat in this manner to a woman. But it had great meaning to the five armed _vaqueros_ who had scattered themselves around the _cuartel_ gate and yard. It meant: _All is well. Go quietly back to the hacienda_.

Once well away from the _pueblo_ , Don Alejandro turned to his son. "Rejoice, Diego! You are a free man. Governor de Solá has seen to it that all official connection between you Zorro is gone forever. He has even given Zorro his blessing, after a fashion,. And I hope you will heed his instructions to you."

"His instructions, Father?" said Diego, still trying to grasp the enormity of what had just happened.

"Yes," said Alejandro. "The governor told you to: 'Go home, grow stronger, and live a long and prosperous life here in Alta California.' "

 _And someday give me grandchildren,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

Three days after Governor de Solá had left for Monterrey, a lancer arrived at the De la Vega _hacienda_ with a long, thin wrapped parcel for Don Diego. "There was a note with it," Cresencia told him as he returned from a trip to the _pueblo_ , "and I have placed them both on the table in the _sala_.

He picked up the note and turned it over, again noting the royal seal. He broke the wax, unfolded the paper, and read:

 _Don Diego -_

 _I found this sword hanging on a peg in Comandante Monastario's office. It is of the finest Toledo steel and clearly not of military issue. I am sending it to you so that if you ever take an interest in fencing you will have a decent blade to practice with._

 _With regards,_

 _Pablo de Solá  
Governor of Alta California_

Unwrapping the parcel, Diego smiled in disbelief. It was the championship sword that he won at the European Tournament — the blade he always carried as Zorro. Evidently Monastario had retrieved it from the brush the night Zorro was shot and kept it as a trophy. Diego lovingly withdrew the blade from its scabbard. "Welcome back, _mi vieja_!" he murmured, taking a few strokes in the air. "I never thought to see you again."

He returned the sword to the scabbard and then, checking to see that no servants were around, entered the secret passage through the _sala's_ cupboard entrance. Mounting the stairs to the secret room adjacent to his bedroom, he hung the sword at its traditional spot on the wall. He gently laid his hand on the hilt. "Rest well, for the time being. But I am sure we will be riding together again in the not-too-distant future."

* * *

 **A/N:** I don't believe Diego's middle name was ever mentioned in the television series. I have given him the name " José " as a nod to Guy Williams, whose birth name was _Armand Joseph Catalano_.

 **A/N2:** I added the bit about the return of the sword because I always felt it was a loose end of sorts.


	28. Proposal

**Chapter 28: Proposal**

 **A/N: 1) I could find only sketchy descriptions of the** _ **serenada**_ **, although I've seen portrayals in several films. If I've got it wrong, my apologies.**

 **2)** _ **Suegro**_ **means "father-in-law" in Spanish.**

Diego continued to pay court to Margarita Emerson, as he now called her. His father was aware of this and not exactly happy, but the old don had decided to take the unsolicited advice that he was getting from everyone he knew, which was to be thankful that his son was alive and to let Diego follow his heart. So when Diego requested to speak with him in the privacy of the study one evening after dinner, Don Alejandro was neither thrilled nor surprised. The elder De la Vega settled himself into the leather chair behind his desk and looked up at his son. "What is it, Diego?" he inquired.

"Father, I would like Mother's betrothal ring." It was a simple, direct, and appropriate request, yet Diego had no idea how his father would react to it.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," his father said, evenly. " After a long pause he asked, "Diego, are you sure?"

"Father, I am very sure. More sure than I've ever been of anything in my life."

His father sighed. "Very well, come with me."

They made their way up to Don Alejandro's room. It was larger than Diego's and well-appointed because it was intended for two people: the patròn and his wife. Going over to a large upright chest, his father opened the top drawer and took out a small beautifully carved wooden box with an ivory inlay on the lid. He opened it. Resting on the velvet lining were a small portrait of Diego's mother Isabella and an even smaller box. He picked up the smaller box and flipped up the top. There sat the emerald betrothal ring he had given to the young and beautiful Isabella De la Cruz. The old don gazed at it fondly and could suddenly feel tears welling in his eyes. Blinking them back, he held the box out to his son. "I hope this ring brings you the same love and happiness it brought to me so many years ago."

Don Tomás and Doña Elvira Ramirez were just finishing their midday mean when their son Francisco came through the patio gate, whistling. "A merry tune, my son," observed Don Tomás. "And you look very pleased with yourself. Has something happened?"

"I bring very good news," replied young Don Francisco. "In three days' time Don Diego plans to ask the _Señora_ Emerson to marry him, and he has invited me to be part of the _serenada_."

"That is very good news indeed. It is about time Don Diego found himself a wife and started a family," Don Tomás declared. "And she is a woman of courage and spirit. They are a fine match." Doña Elvira at first broke into a smile. But moments later her expression became puzzled. Her husband, noticing the change, asked, "Is there some problem with this, _mi tesoro_?"

"I am wondering if Colonel Emerson and his daughter will know what to expect. There has been no wedding in the _pueblo_ since their arrival, and given that she is a widow I am sure no one has talked about wedding customs around her. Suddenly her eyes widened in alarm. " I know she often cooks with Conceptiòn. What if Don Diego and his party arrive and she meets them wearing a flour-covered apron, with her hair in disarray and the Colonel has no refreshment prepared?! We cannot allow this to happen, Tomás. We must pay a call to _Rancho_ Flores now!"

"Of course we can," replied her husband of many years. "This evening, after dinner — "

" Tomás, when I say 'now' I mean NOW! Send for the carriage," she called over her shoulder, as she hurried away for her shawl.

Just over an hour later the Ramirez carriage was rolling up to the _Rancho_ Flores. Hearing approaching horses, Maggie went out to see who was arriving. When she recognized the carriage she called for her father. The vehicle pulled up and stopped and _Señor_ and _Señora_ Ramirez stepped out. Maggie walked toward them, her hands extended in welcome. "Don Tomás, Do _ñ_ a Elvira! To what do we owe this pleasant surprise?"

"Ah, my dear," began Do _ñ_ a Elvira, "this is just a simple visit. I regret that we did not send word beforehand, but there is something I must discuss with you at once."

"Is anything wrong? Is it Teresa?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort." The older woman hooked her arm through Maggie's and began walking into the _hacienda_. "You remember, do you not, the many times we discussed our customs here in California? Well, there is one more very important custom that I must tell you about."

As the women were speaking, Don Tomás walked up to Maggie's father and said, "Tell me, Colonel, is your cellar well stocked with good wine and _jerez_?

And so it was that three days later Maggie sat in the _sala_ wearing not a flour- or dust-covered dress and apron but the best dress she had shy of a formal gown, and wondering if she or _Doña_ Elvira or possibly both of them had been imagining things. If that were the case, Conceptiòn was imagining things as well for the cook had refused to let her so much as set foot in the kitchen earlier that day. "No, _Señora,_ you must not come in here," declared Conceptiòn, firmly. "You must look your best when he arrives." So much for a normal morning.

Shortly after midday a cloud of dust appeared out on the road, and hoofbeats announced the approach of a group of riders. The Colonel, having heard the sound, drifted out to the patio. He, too, was dressed to welcome important visitors. The riders halted and dismounted, and Don Diego De la Vega and six of his friends, each friend carrying a guitar, came through the patio gate.

" _Buenos tardes_ , _Señor_ Sheraton," said Diego. " _Con permiso_ , I have come to speak to your daughter."

Smiling and nodding, the Colonel replied, "I believe she is in the _sala_. Won't all of you please come in."

The six men stood in two groups of three, in front of her and slightly off to each side. They began to play their guitars and sing a lovely Spanish ballad. As the music continued, Conceptiòn and other servants, as well as several _vaqueros_ , began to slip quietly into the room. When the ballad concluded, the six of them looked back to the doorway.

Diego, dressed in his very finest, now entered. He walked up to Margarita, removed his hat, and went down on one knee. She held her breath. He took his mother's betrothal ring from a pocket and held it out to her, saying: "I am Diego José De la Cruz De la Vega, of the Pueblo de Los Angeles. My family is of _hidalgo_ blood that goes back seven generations in Spain. We have a fine _hacienda_ and hold much land and many horses and cattle. All of this I offer to you, along with my deepest love and the complete devotion of my heart. Margarita Marie Sheraton Emerson, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She looked down at him. His face was a mixture of love and hope tinged with the impossible fear that she would refuse him. She smiled and held out her left hand. "Diego José De la Cruz De la Vega, I accept. And in becoming your wife, the honor is mine." He placed the ring on her finger and kissed her hand. Then he rose, took her in his arms, and they sealed their pledge with a long kiss that was accompanied by much cheering from those around them.

Finally her father cleared his throat and called attention to the many bottles of wine that had been set out on a nearby table earlier that morning. As friends and servants toasted the couple, the Colonel walked over to Diego and Maggie, handed each of them a glass of wine, and kissed her on the cheek. "Every happiness, Mag —.er, Margarita!" he said with a wide smile. He then shook Diego's hand.

Diego looked at his future _suegro_. " _Señor_ I promise you I will guard her with my life itself."

"I expect nothing less," replied Colonel Sheraton with a smile. "Still, I must thank you."

"For what?"

"For putting the light back in my daughter's eyes."


	29. Choice

**Chapter 29: Choice**

In one week they would be married. Today they came to the church in the _pueblo_ , to meet with _Padre_ Vicente and go over the details of the ceremony. As they waited for the priest, they walked in the beautiful garden that surrounded the statue of the Virgin. Maggie noted that Diego seemed especially withdrawn. "You're very quiet today," she ventured gently. "Is something worrying you?"

He strolled a few paces farther down the path, then turned to her. "Margarita, forgive me, but there is something I feel I must ask you."

It was a simple statement, but it suddenly she felt worried. _Is he having second thoughts?_

He guided her to a nearby bench and they sat down. She thought she saw pain in those hazel eyes. He took her hands. " _Querida_ , I have lived for a long time as two different men. And you have come to know both of them. I need to know which of them it is that you wish to marry."

"Ah!" was all she could think of to say. She sighed and stared off into the distance for a full minute, trying to form an answer. Finally, looking down at their joined hands, she began. "I suppose it's all for the best that you asked that question, for it's true that I love only one man." She raised her eyes to his. "I love the one man who drove away wolves and brought me home after my riding accident. I love the one man who tried to teach me how to play the guitar. I love the one man who brought me flowers by night. I love the one man who told me the story of the _Abuela_ rose. I love the one man who returned my hat in the plaza. I love the one man who told me I had a 'gentle curiosity.' "

She reached up and caressed his cheek. " I love only one man because you _are_ only one man. You have spent so long trying to live as two different men that you almost don't know how to be whole again. And I will help you be whole again. I think entire _pueblo_ will help you be whole again.

"How is that possible?" he asked.

Here is what I think. Everyone knows that you are Zorro. But Governor de Solá himself officially exonerated you and apologized to you on behalf of the king, so everyone also knows that you are not Zorro." She paused. "Now, since you were accused of being a great swordsman, it would not be all that strange if you took more of an interest in fencing — simply out of curiosity. You are still a scholar and a _caballero_ , but now a scholar who knows how to handle a blade and who occasionally tests his skill harmlessly with friends as many do. And it would be only natural for your skill to increase with time. You no longer have to work so hard to hide the swordsman behind the scholar. The _pueblo_ knows it needs Zorro, so the _pueblo_ will guard your secret. But if Zorro is needed again, you will wear the mask again and ride again. And I'm sure there will be many in Los Angeles who willingly swear that they saw Don Diego and Zorro at the same time."

"Fighting as Zorro is dangerous, as you know. Do you wish your husband and, _Dios_ willing, the father of your children, to undertake such a risk?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Zorro is truly part of who you are, Diego. But Zorro is not all of who you are."

"Many times Zorro must ride at night," he observed.

"Then I will keep the bed warm until you return," she replied, smiling at him.

A voice rang out across the garden. "Come, my children," called _Padre_ Vicente, waving to them from the church door. "Let us discuss the happy ceremony of your marriage."

 _A fine pair_ , he thought, as he watched them walking toward him.


	30. Wedding

**Chapter 30: Wedding**

 **A/N: 1)** _ **Damas**_ **here are the equivalent of bridesmaids.**

 **2)** _ **Noche de bodas**_ **means "wedding night" in Spanish.**

 **3)** _ **Esposa**_ **means "wife" in Spanish.**

Diego blinked slowly awake, then frowned. This was not the ceiling above his bed. Then he heard a muffled sigh and felt a soft stirring beside him. Then he remembered...and smiled.

He leaned toward her and began stroking her cheek with his hand. " _Señora_ ," he whispered. No response. " _Señora_ ," he whispered again, a little louder. Still she slept. Now he leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. " _Señora_ de la Vega," he said yet louder. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Mmmmm, ' _Señora_ de la Vega'. I like the sound of that," she said, cupping his cheek in her hand and drawing his mouth down to hers...

Earlier that day it seemed as though the whole world was glowing. The sky was a brilliant blue, the ordinary buildings of the pueblo were festooned with flowers, and the walls of the church almost blinding in the afternoon sun. The interior of the church, too, was bright with candlelight, and even _Padre_ Vicente's simple robes seemed radiant. Beyond that, he did not recall many details. But he would always remember her face, framed by a borrowed _mantilla_ , as she approached him on the Colonel's arm.

This was not quite a traditional Californiano wedding. For one thing, Spanish brides wore black as a sign that they would be faithful to their husband until death. This Maggie flatly refused to do. Many of the _doñas_ furrowed their brows and shook their heads at this, until someone observed that wearing black might remind the young _Señora_ Emerson of her departed first husband rather than of her handsome soon-to-be second husband, and that this would be a great discourtesy to Don Diego. At this the frowns disappeared. Also, in the Americano custom, she arrived at the church with her father, in a carriage, forgoing the mounted procession.

But many traditional customs would be observed. In a beautiful inlaid wooden box on a little table near the altar sat the _arras matrimoniales_ , thirteen gold coins that would be blessed by the _padre_ then given by Diego to Maggie as a sign of his sacred pledge to always provide for her. Next to the _arras_ was the _lazo_ , a gold-fringed cord that would be wound in a figure eight around the couple's shoulders as a sign of the love that would bind them for the rest of their lives. He remembered reciting his vows, and he remembered her calm, firm voice as she in turn recited hers. He remembered the rings and the _lazo_. And he remembered standing together at the altar at the end of the ceremony, then turning and escorting his new bride out of the church and into the sunlight. Where he kissed her for the first time as his wife.

The _Rancho_ de la Vega had never seen such a celebration. It seemed the whole _pueblo_ was there, and it probably was. No one was turned away. Neighboring landowners, wishing to express their great good wishes, had sent over sheep and cattle to be butchered, chickens, oil, flour for tortillas and pastry delicacies, and more wine than could be stored in Don Alejandro's cellar. The feasting, music, and dancing went on long into the night.

Diego and Maggie attempted to retire soon after sunset. " _Doña_ Margarita" as they now called her had gone with two of her _damas_ up to Diego's room — now their room — to change out of her gown. The formidable _Doña_ Elvira stood guard at the door. Diego had changed in his father's bedroom and now made his way along the balcony to their room — a short walk accompanied by much cheering and backslapping and shouting of good wishes from the male guests. When he arrived at the doorway, _Doña_ Elvira knocked twice and opened the door for him, smiling and murmuring, " _Buenos noches_." Diego entered and locked the door behind him.

She was standing near the window, enjoying the evening breeze. He came up behind her and softly put his hands on her shoulders. He brushed her hair to one side, then began placing soft kisses down the side of her neck and across her shoulder.

"We have had a long day, _querida_ ," he observed. "But I hope you are not _too_ tired just yet."

She turned to him and put her arms around him. "I never believed this day would really come, Diego. I never thought I could be so happy again. I—"

They were both startled by a great thump, followed by the sound of breaking glass, followed by shouts of "Fire!" In an instant Diego had crossed the room, unlocked the door and was looking down onto the patio from the balcony. Someone had knocked over a table which had knocked over one of the many patio candelabras which had set the linen covering of a smaller table on fire. Arturo the steward stood next to the now-soggy second table holding an empty bucket. He looked up and said, "A thousand apologies for disturbing you, Don Diego. But everything is now in order. Your presence is not needed here." Diego made his way back to their room and re-locked the door.

"Was anyone hurt?" she asked.

"No. Clumsy guest," he explained, irritation in his voice.

"No matter," she said softly, "the night is still before us."

He took her in his arms and kissed her long and deeply, and she melted into him. He stroked her back down to her hips and she signed softly at his touch. He kissed her again; she returned his passion in equal measure. He began to undo the ribbon at the neck of her nightgown.

Suddenly there came from outside the window a loud, poorly played chord from a badly tuned guitar. Six lancers, none of them either sober or particularly good at singing, had decided that their contribution to the celebration would be a _serenada_ for the bride and groom. They worked their way through a tender, romantic ballad about true love. Diego and Maggie, disturbed for a second time but wanting to accept the well-intended wishes of these guests, sighed and listened to the thankfully short song. But the lancers unfortunately chose to continue. Their second song was a ribald tavern ditty that was of questionable taste even under normal circumstances, and completely out of place at a wedding.

Maggie closed her eyes, shook her head, and covered her face with her hands. "No - no - no! Not now!" she wailed.

Diego gritted his teeth and was on his way to the window, intent on slamming it shut hard enough to possibly break the glass, when they heard the voice of Sergeant Garcia.

"Idiotas! Babosos! Stop this!" The music came to an abrupt halt. "This is not a song for Don Diego and his bride!" chided Garcia. "This is not a song for anyone! Well, perhaps for an Englishman somewhere. But not here! Get out now, all of you! Go!" The sound of receding footstep floated up out of the darkness.

"Are we perhaps cursed?" Diego wondered aloud. He walked slowly over to Maggie, who was now sitting on the bed. He took a deep breath and sat down beside her and took her hand, trying to regain his calm and his ardor. She too was flustered.

"Surely they all will go home eventually," she sighed, leaning on his shoulder.

"I hope 'eventually' is very soon," he replied, turning her face to his and planting a soft kiss on her lips.

Now there came the sound of a persistent knocking. The couple looked at the door, puzzled. Although the door was the logical source, the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere within the room. After a few moments Diego's face registered understanding and he rose and strode over to the mantelpiece. He pressed the switch and the secret panel swung open revealing Bernardo holding a lantern.

Now Diego lost his temper. "Bernardo! What is the meaning of this? You of all people! This is not how we planned to spend our wedding night! This is not how _anyone_ would plan to spend their wedding night! We desire peace and privacy and all we get a noisy accidents and drunken soldiers and servants coming into our room!"

All the while Bernardo stood there, calmly nodding, looking for all the world like he was in complete agreement with everything his _patròn_ was saying. Finally Diego's anger ran its course. "Exactly what are you doing here?" he asked, a little calmer now. The _muzo_ motioned for them to follow him into the secret room. "You want to go to the cave now? Now?" Bernardo, smiling, nodded vigorously. Diego was incredulous. " _Now_?" He turned to his bride. "I don't understand this, Margarita, but stay here until —." At this the nodding turned to vigorous head shaking. Bernardo pushed his way into the room and took Maggie by the wrist. She snatched up a shawl as he pulled her over to her new husband, placed her hand in Diego's, and pushed their hands together, hard.

"You want Margarita to come with us?" Bernardo went back to nodding.

Still unhappy with the evening's events and thoroughly confused, the couple followed Bernardo into the secret room. Here he handed Diego a second lantern, and the trio made their way — slowly, for Maggie's sake, since she had never been there before — down the stairs and through the long tunnel out to Tornado's cave.

As they were approaching the cave, Diego became concerned. He thought he saw a distant flickering light and he wondered if there was a fire of some sort. When they came to the place where the tunnel opened out into the cave itself, Bernardo stopped, held his lantern aloft, and made a sweeping bow of welcome. Diego and Maggie stopped dead in their tracks.

Two dozen candles, perched on small outcroppings in the walls, cast a warm glow over a thick layer of straw spread over the floor and topped with several blankets and a pair of pillows. To one side a tray from the _hacienda_ bore a bottle of wine and two glasses. Diego was speechless.

" Bernardo, this is beautiful!" Maggie gasped. " You have done this for us!" She stepped over to him and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. Bernardo, blushing as he had never blushed before, went back to nodding. Suddenly Diego realized that something was missing. Something very large and very black.

"Wait, where is Tornado?" The _muzo_ drew a square in the air. "In the box canyon?" Bernardo nodded and made several motions of bringing food to his mouth and then rubbing his stomach. "With plenty to eat?" asked Diego. Bernardo resumed nodding. "And the spring is full?" More nodding.

"My friend, I don't know what to say. A thousand thanks. We will never forget this." The manservant smiled broadly and bowed slightly, then turned a began to make his way back up the tunnel toward the _hacienda_. Diego and Maggie listened as his footsteps receded into the distance. Now the two of them stood motionless as if cautiously waiting for the next calamity to erupt. After a minute or two, she spoke.

"I think we have finally found our privacy," she said softly.

"I believe you are right," he said, smiling and sweeping her up in his arms. " Come, _esposa_ , let us go to our marriage bed!"

Hours later Diego work again. He noticed a lightening beyond the cave's entrance. He walked across to the vines, pushed some of them aside, and looked out at the sky. Long experience as Zorro and the pale streak in the eastern sky told him that dawn was at most an hour away. He let the vines drop and walked back toward where his wife lay.

His getting up had awakened her. She had pushed herself up on one elbow and watched him as he moved the vines and looked out. Now as he returned to her she saw him silhouetted against the lighter cave opening and her heart leapt at the sight of his lithe, muscular body. _I am the luckiest woman on the face of the earth_ , she thought to herself.

He dropped down next to her in the straw. " _Querida_ ," he whispered, "I think we must go back to the room."

She leaned back into the straw, and made a sad face. "Can't we just stay here forever?"

"I do not believe Tornado would like that. He lives here, you know," he chuckled. "Besides, sooner or later someone will knock on the door — perhaps just to bring us breakfast. If there is no answer at all, they might become alarmed and break down the door. If they find a completely empty room, a long and complicated explanation will be required. I would prefer not to have to make one up. We should go back now so that it will look like we spent our entire _noche de bodas_ there."

They began to untangle themselves from the bedding and gather their things. He shook out his dressing gown and put it on. She slipped back into her nightgown and wrapped herself in her shawl. He lit the lantern from one of the remaining burning candles and together they made their way up the tunnel through the secret room and into the bedroom. He pulled down the ornate covelet and turned to her. "I hope you are a happy woman, _Señora_ de la Vega."

"I am a very happy woman," she replied, smiling. Then she turned and looked at the floor back towards the secret panel. "But we still have a problem."

"Problem?"

She plucked something from her shawl, then something from his hair and held the items up. "How are we going to explain all this straw?"

Down in the patio, two servants who had risen very early and begun to clean up after last night's festivities wondered at the sudden burst of laughter from the newlyweds' room.

_ FIN _

 **A/N: To those of you who have made it this far, thank you for your persistence. When I started this story I had no idea it would spin itself out to such a length. But as I once read somewhere, stories sometimes take on a life of their own. I hope you have enjoyed reading my tale. Comments — favorable or otherwise — are welcome.**


End file.
